


You Touch Me and I Burn

by quietpastelcolours



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Betrayal, Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Internal Conflict, Junkrat being an arse yet strangely endearing, Not Actually Unrequited Feelings, Post-Recall, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Symmetra being confused by Australian slang, Very Gradual Romance, awkwardness in general (Symmetra I'm looking at you), dislike turned like, redemption arc, team conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:05:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 68
Words: 347,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7690936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietpastelcolours/pseuds/quietpastelcolours
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani is dispatched by the Vishkar Corporation to the newly reformed Overwatch in order to keep tabs on their activity in terms of how the team's return might effect Vishkar's influence in the world. At first, Satya believes the job is like any other, but with the addition of Lúcio to the team, hidden cracks begin to surface.</p>
<p>Then, two Australian mercenaries show up and plunge her neatly ordered life into chaos as she struggles through a betrayal she never wanted to see coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

_Calm_.

Satya Vaswani let her eyes flutter closed for a moment as she repeated the word, and then she braced herself, straightening her posture and carefully arranging her expression to a steady neutral. While no stranger to living in foreign climes and expanding the interests and influence of the Vishkar Corporation, she would be foolish indeed to assume that her presence amongst the newly resurrected Overwatch would be plain sailing. Not everyone trusted Vishkar; a thought she found quite disturbing. Vishkar would bring order to the world.

Around her, Vishkar agents were completing their duties; they’d landed on the Rock of Gibraltar, where Winston, the Overwatch leader, had based the reformed organisation. Satya took a deep breath as with a mechanical grind, the door at the back of the aircraft hissed open, reclining down towards the ground to form a ramp. She could see several people standing near the other end of the hangar bay, including a large gorilla; Winston was meeting her personally. She found this thought pleasing; not all of those she’d visited on Vishkar business took the time to meet her arrival.

Though, she reflected, this wasn’t exactly _typical_ Vishkar business. While she’d heard civilians whispering excitedly about the possibly return of the heroes, the reformation of Overwatch was still technically illegal, and should anything happen, the so called heroes would certainly face prosecution. For now, however, there was peace, however tense it may be. Satya lifted her chin as she made her way down from the aircraft, two other Vishkar agents carrying her luggage; she’d been informed to pack for an extended stay.

Standing on firm ground, Satya eyed the group of Overwatch members as she exchanged a few words with the agent beside her, and then the lumbering gorilla approached, flanked by two others; a young woman in an orange jumpsuit, and another woman with bright blonde hair.

“Agent Symmetra.”

Winston’s voice was deep and gravelly, befitting that of a genetically modified gorilla, and Satya inclined her head in greeting.

“Dr Winston.” She said, slipping into English. Her native Telugu was not something she’d be speaking a lot of here.

“Just Winston, thank you.” The gorilla turned his head. “My associates, Dr Angela Ziegler, and Lena Oxton.”

Satya nodded politely at both women in turn; she’d been provided files on all the members of Overwatch currently known to have returned – the agents known as Mercy and Tracer respectively were ones she was familiar with.

“I am pleased to meet you all.” Satya tried out a smile, the better to put her hosts at ease. “And I thank you for your generous hospitality.”

Winston grinned. “It was your corporation that made this deal.”

Satya nodded. “I am aware. Still, you did not have to agree to Vishkar’s offered olive branch, and we are thankful.” Politeness and deference always put her clients at ease, and though these were hardened warriors instead of politicians, the principle was still the same.

“That’s true.” Tracer muttered. The young woman seemed to be naturally bubbly, but she was clearly wary, causing her to look rather conflicted. The doctor however seemed quite relaxed and at ease.

“Lena.” Winston’s rebuff, if indeed that was what it was, was quiet, before he directed his words back to her. “Will your crew stay long?”

Satya looked over her shoulder at the aircraft; having unloaded her possessions, the Vishkar flight crew was clearly preparing to take off. “No, they will leave as soon as they are able. If you will excuse me for just a moment-” She left the Overwatch agents and headed swiftly over to the flight commander, who was in charge of directing the crew of the transporter. Exchanging a few words with him, she confirmed their departure and said her goodbyes, and then stepped back as the last of the agents and crew strapped themselves in and the door began to rise.

Satya then moved back towards the Overwatch members as the force emitted from the aircraft thrusters threatened to blow her backwards, and then the craft lifted into the air and was off, back to India. She bit her lip at the thought; she’d only been back in her home country for less than a month, and now she was off on a new mission.

“So.” That was the doctor’s voice, and Satya turned towards the woman, thinking for a moment of her country of origin to place the Germanic accent; she was Swiss. “What do you do for Vishkar?”

“I am an architech, but I also travel as an extension of Vishkar’s interests, as a diplomatic agent. It is my task to foster new relations with potential partners and clients, in the hopes that Vishkar’s influence might expand to aid new people.” How she wished they spoke Hindi or Telugu; she disliked the way her accent marred English speech, much preferring the neat fluidity provided by speaking in her native tongue. Alas, she’d be speaking English for some time to come.

“An architech? You one of those light users then?” That was Tracer, a spark of interest on her face, her accent thick and, if Satya was going to be completely honest, rather obnoxious.

“Yes.” She replied calmly, keeping her thoughts to herself. “I manipulate hard-light in order to craft my constructs.”

“You’ll ‘ave to show us sometime, eh?” The British agent’s tone was jovial, but Satya was no fool. They’d want to uncover exactly what she could do, to ensure there would be no surprises.

“If that is what you wish.”

Winston stepped forwards then. “I am pleased to have you here, Agent Symmetra.” He began, though Satya wasn’t quite sure she believed him. “Lets go inside; we can show you to your rooms and introduce you to the rest of the crew.”

“Very well.” Satya smiled slightly then. “And please, call me Symmetra.”

Winston inclined his large head. “Lena, perhaps you’d give Symmetra a hand with her things; Angela, see if you can gather everyone up in the one place for introductions.” The gorilla didn’t mention what he was doing as he disappeared into the base, so Satya could only wonder as she turned towards the English girl.

“Rightio.” Tracer said cheerily; she seemed to be becoming more relaxed. “Lets get your things inside, eh?”

“Thank you.” Satya headed towards her luggage, which consisted of two suitcases; one for her civilian clothing and possessions, and one for her equipment and tools. She took the heavier one, feeling the familiar weight of her tools, and Tracer took the other, tipping it up so she could grab the handle.

“This way! Your room is down with the rest of ‘em, in the barracks.”

Rolling her heavy suitcase along as she followed Tracer down the halls, Satya took the sights that the Gibraltar base had to offer, and tried to memorise the paths so she wouldn’t get lost quite so easily. Reaching the wing that housed the living quarters, Tracer led her past some doors that had little name plaques attached, and some that were blank. She’d have to examine the names later and compare them to the list she’d been provided with. They stopped outside a blank door, which to Satya’s relief, was tucked at the back of a corridor, providing her with the illusion of privacy.

“Well, ‘ere y’are!” Tracer chirped, moving slightly so they could both get at the touchpad beside the door. “This’ll be your room – to get in, you need a passcode or you can 'ave Athena set up a fingerprint or retina scanner-”

“Athena?” Asked Satya with furrowed brow; she did not recall an ‘Athena’ on the list of Overwatch operatives.

“Oh, she’s the computer system. She’s an AI unit, and she’ll help you out if you get lost ever – just find a pad and she’ll direct you. See?”

As an example, Tracer touched her finger to the pad, and a blue screen flickered to life. Satya watched with interest as a cool female voice issued from the speaker.

“Athena, online.”

The robotic tone reminded her a little of Vishkar tech, and Satya relaxed slightly at the touch of familiarity.

“The Vishkar agent is ‘ere, love.” Tracer chirped. “I’m showing ‘er to ‘er room, but she ‘asn’t got ‘er code yet, and mine won’t work, for obvious reasons. Mind bypassing the security system for a tick?”

The voice sounded a touch sterner now. “Don’t make a habit of it, Tracer.”

“I wont!”

There was a quiet mechanised hum, and then the door slid open to reveal a very basic bedroom. There was a military aesthetic to it, which made sense, and Satya nodded to herself as she took in the room. Tracer dragged her suitcase in and set it on the floor.

“We each have private codes for our rooms. They’re our sanctuaries – no one else can get in or out, and Athena doesn’t bypass security as easily as she did now. The only way to get in someone else’s room is to be shown in.”

Satya nodded. “We had similar rules at the academy.”

“The academy?”

“The Architech Academy – it’s where I studied in order to use hard light.”

Tracer nodded. “Is it 'ard to be an architech?” There was genuine curiosity in the girl’s voice, so Satya indulged her.

“Very. Vishkar is constantly scouting for individuals who show promise, and they are recruited and trained from childhood, like I was.”

Tracer raised her brows. “From when y’were little? That’s intense.”

“It is, but it’s worth it.”

The English girl nodded. “Well, there’s time to chew the fat later. I’ll give you a minute. You’ve been travelling, so you can freshen up. I’ll come back and get you in ten, orright?”

“Thank you.” Satya smiled at the other woman even as she puzzled over the _chew the fat_ comment. It wasn’t something she’d heard before. “I’d appreciate the time.”

Tracer grinned. “See ya in a few!” With that, she stepped out of the room and pressed the touchpad, making the door slide closed, and Satya closed her eyes and reflected on things for a moment. While obviously wary of Vishkar’s motives, Overwatch had given her as warm a welcome as she could have hoped for, and now she could get down to business. Opening her eyes, she cast her gaze about at her new room. It was decently sized, holding a bed, a desk, a wardrobe and what appeared to be a minibar. There was another door – just a regular, non-automated sliding door, and Satya curiously pushed it open to find a small and neatly appointed bathroom. Entering the room, she turned on the tap to dab some cool water on her cheeks, and then she examined her reflection.

Her make up was still in good condition, but her hair! Satya grimaced as she dragged her fingers through her wind-tousled locks – the wind from the Vishkar aircraft taking off had mussed her hair dreadfully. Striding back into her room, she placed her personal suitcase on her bed and unzipped it, pulling her toiletry bag out to retrieve her hairbrush. A few minutes later and her glossy black hair hung smoothly down her back once more, and she set the hairbrush aside in favour of exploring her room more.

The bed was self-explanatory, and the wardrobe empty of everything but coat hangers, and she found laundry and rubbish chutes in the wall. Next, Satya examined her desk, which held a sleek monitor – presumably, Athena would talk to her if she turned it on, though whether or not she’d be able to access files was less certain. The minibar was far more interesting – it consisted of what looked like a standard kitchen bench with space for one cupboard and a mini fridge below, and upon opening the cupboard, she found some plates, cups and cutlery, along with a small toaster and kettle. The fridge was empty however – she suspected she’d need to stock up from somewhere.

Soon after finishing her inspection, there came a crackle over the intercom, and then Tracer's voice filled the room.

“You there, love?” Came the peppy tone, and Satya took one last look at herself in the mirror, smoothing her regulation Vishkar blouse down neatly over her hips, and then pressed the door release button, prompting it to slide open. Tracer was standing there, a bright smile on her face.

“Come on then! Time to meet everyone!”


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya is introduced to the rest of the newly reformed Overwatch crew, and finds herself caught up in a slight moral quandary.

The Overwatch team continued to be hospitable, if wary. Satya sat in what appeared to be some sort of recreation area filled with comfortable seating, a drink in her hand that had been pressed there by Mercy, who appeared to be something of a mother hen.

Besides the three who’d met her on the tarmac, she’d been since introduced to the rest of the Overwatch crew; there was a surprisingly stereotypical cowboy by the name of Jesse McCree, whose speech was all slurred syllables and long drawn out _darlins’_ , and a monstrous German warrior who styled himself a knight – Reinhardt struck her as someone fairly trustworthy. Then there was the Swedish weapons engineer Torbjörn, whose small stature belied an immense personal fire. Satya had very limited intel on the Shimada brothers, who had been introduced as such but had not been present in her briefing from Vishkar; this didn’t bother her. She knew there was a limited chance of having information on ever member. Besides, she was here to observe.

The Shimada brother named Genji seemed to be encased in a full body tech suit, which struck her as unusual, for no one else was suited up, and he looked quite ready to charge into battle. He contrasted his brother Hanzo quite nicely, who was clad in what appeared to be Japanese garments, and she noted that he was dressed the way she’d sometimes seen archers do; his left side was bare to ensure nothing caught on his bow when firing. At least, that’s what she assumed. She’d need to observe further.

“So. Symmi-tra.”

Satya turned her attention to Reinhardt as he spoke, mangling her moniker in his heavy German accent. “What is your surname?”

“Vaswani.” She replied, allowing a small smile onto her lips, not realising that he thought Symmetra was her birth name.

“Symmi-tra Vase-wany.” The knight mused, mangling her name even more. “Very nice.”

“Oh no-” She started, beginning to tell him her name was Satya, but the big man had already turned away to stomp into the kitchen to yell at Torbjörn for stealing his sausages, so she was left holding up her hand in mid air.

 _Oh well._ She could always correct him later.

Through the snippets of conversation that reached her ears, Satya heard the name _Zenyatta_ mentioned by Genji once or twice, and wondered who he was; she’d need to do some digging. After all, she’d be here for months at the very least. She frowned and took another sip of her drink, her gaze sliding towards Tracer and Mercy as they laughed at some joke the English girl had told.

“So what are y’all doing here, darlin’?” Drawled Jesse McCree as he dragged his chair closer to her, a weather beaten hat sitting crooked on his brow. “What’s Vishkar want with us?”

 _Us_.

 _Us_ versus _You_.

“Vishkar has never been an enemy of Overwatch.” Satya replied politely. “Your goal is to provide peace, order and stability to the world, a mission statement we at Vishkar are in agreement with. My superiors have reached out to your organisation in order to ensure a peaceful partnership… if you manage to make this recall legal again.”

Her final words rang in the air as the mood dimmed around them all – perhaps in their joys to be reunited with one another, they liked to forget that all Overwatch activity was illegal under the Petras Act.

McCree shifted, reclining more in his chair and looking quite at ease. “You a spy?”

“I am a diplomatic agent – it is my job to visit potential allies and handle negotiations.”

“So not a spy? Vishkar don’t want reports from you all regular like?”

Satya decided honesty was the best policy, but she still concealed most of what her duties were. “Vishkar will require periodic updates on the situation, yes.”

McCree nodded slowly, and Winston stepped forwards. “Will those reports include information on the people who’ve answered the recall?”

The gorilla’s tone was tense, and Satya realised this was a very loaded question.

“I am… expected to report on the members you have, yes.”

There was a slight pause. “Symmetra, you understand this recall is illegal, surely?”

“I do.” She replied tensely – what was the scientist getting at?

“Well, we’d appreciate if you kept those exact numbers on the down low.”

Satya raised a brow. “You’re asking me to fudge data.”

“Er… I am, yes. You see, I’m currently in talks with the UN, because they’re not overly pleased with the recall. Technically, we haven’t broken the law yet, but the moment we step foot outside on a mission under the name Overwatch, the UN will be breathing down our necks.” Winston paused and took a moment to polish the lens of his glasses before repositioning them on his nose. “I’ve been following the re-emergence of enemy omnic activity in Russia quite closely, and with the recent actions of Talon, I believe it is high time Overwatch came together to protect the world once more. If we can show the UN how much Overwatch is needed, they might just repeal the Petras Act. If that goes through, we’ll have more scope and funding, and we’ll be official again.” He paused again. “Until then, we’d appreciate it if we could keep exact names out of this, considering that that anyone here now could be prosecuted for what we’re doing.”

Satya nodded slowly. “I see your reasoning, but there is a slight flaw – Vishkar has already provided me with files on most of your returned members.”

There was some harsh swearing behind Winston as the scientist’s eyes opened up wide. “What?” He barked harshly, and Satya inclined her head.

“I was provided intel on every person in this room bar the Shimada’s. As of now, Vishkar is unaware of their presence here, but we do have intelligence on everyone else.”

Every eye in the room turned to the Shimada brothers – Genji’s masked face betrayed no emotion, but Hanzo looked a touch smug as he met the irritated gaze of the cowboy.

“So is Vishkar keeping tabs on us then?” Asked Tracer, a frown on her face.

Satya shrugged delicately. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to disclose that information. All I can tell you is that I was provided files on most of you by my superiors, mostly so that I’d know with whom I’d be dealing with when I arrived.”

Winston nodded as Mercy settled a hand on his shoulder, her beautiful face looking slightly worried. “What does this mean for us?” The doctor asked, her accent twisting the words slightly.

Satya lifted her hands in a ‘not-to-worry’ gesture. “Vishkar likes to have all the details; once they caught wind of the recall, my superiors sent agents to watch for arrivals just to keep track of things. There is nothing sinister in it, no cause for alarm. Vishkar strives for _peace_.”

“But they do work with the UN, do they not?” Hanzo interjected delicately.

Satya nodded once. “We do, yes.” She paused and thought for a moment. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you if that information has been passed on – my clearance level is not high enough.”

“Well, if they have or they haven’t, we’ll deal with it.” Winston said heavily. “We’ll just have to take extra precautions.”

She nodded, pleased, but then her mouth turned down slightly. “You sound very suspicious. I hope you know that Vishkar is in the business of aiding human suffering around the globe. We would not do anything to cause harm.”

Winston nodded again. “Forgive us; these are tense times, and we don’t exactly mean to imply anything.”

“Oh no.” Satya shook her head. “I understand, and you have every right to be wary.”

The tension in the room seemed to relax then, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth; it seemed she’d said the right thing.

“Then will you please keep the Shimada brothers out of your records?” Winston asked. “Hopefully, it will not be for too long – my aim is to have our agency legitimised again soon, and then you can make full reports to your people.”

Satya hesitated. “You ask a lot of me – you want me to conceal data from my employers in your favour when I’ve scarcely known you an hour.”

“As I said, it won’t be for long.” Winston said heavily. “I just need more _time_ with the UN.”

Satya hesitated again. “Very well. I will consider it.”

Most people in the room breathed a sigh of relief.

“ _If_.” She clarified, and Winston frowned.

“If?”

“There is a condition that comes with my agreement.” Satya narrowed her eyes as she thought things through. “If it comes to the attention of my employers that I have purposefully omitted data in my reports, then I will be severely reprimanded, even stripped of my position. If you want me to even _consider_ this, you must be able to swear that the two Shimada’s will not be seen by anyone. As of this moment I’m unaware of the level of surveillance Vishkar has this base under – it could be none, or we could be surrounded.”

Everyone looked around rather uneasily at that, while the Shimada’s bristled.

“We will not be seen.” Hanzo said curtly, and Genji nodded.

“Certainly not.” His voice was rather robotic, and Satya has since deduced that he’d met with some accident that mangled his voice box severely enough to require mechanical assistance. She made a mental note to follow up the cause of his injuries later.

“See that you aren’t.” Satya said curtly, and turned her attention to McCree, who was lounging informally in his chair as he sipped at a beer. His posture irritated her; he looked like a slob.

“What about the newcomers?” Chirped Tracer, and Satya’s brows pulled together.

“Newcomers?” She inquired, and the English girl clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Oh no – did I say something I shouldn’t ‘ave?”

“No, she’d have found out anyway.” Winston said heavily, and then he sighed when Satya raised her brows at him. “This is not the total number of members expected. We have more en route to Gibraltar – they should be arriving over the next few weeks.”

“Past members? Or ghosts?” She asked, flicking a significant look at Hanzo Shimada, who frowned at her. “If I recall correctly, doesn’t having new recruits violate the terms of the Act?”

“Well, it does.” Winston rumbled carefully, but Tracer spoke right over him.

“Past members, o’ course!” She chirped. “‘Anzo’s only ‘ere ‘cause ‘e’s Genji’s brother, and ‘e’s an original.”

Satya nodded, and Winston continued.

“Technically, we violate the terms by having _you_ here, but so long as you are a passive observer and not a member…”

Satya understood. “I am here as an extension of Vishkar. I am in no way affiliated with Overwatch.”

Winston leaned back. “Does that change anything? Will you report Hanzo and Genji anyway?”

She pursed her lips and thought. “I do not know yet.” Satya pushed her hair back behind her ear. “My report isn’t due for two days… but I will think on it. How many newcomers do you expect?”

Winston looked shifty, as did most other people in the room, though they tried to hide it. Only Hanzo and Genji remained unreadable.

“Four or five.” Mercy spoke up, her accent smeared with slight unease. “Just the remaining members who haven’t reached the base yet.”

“Very well.” Satya nodded. “I will consider it, and I will let you know of my decision.”

Winston nodded. “I suppose that’s all there is to be said on the subject for now. Is there anything else you’d like?” He inquired. “More food? A tour?”

“If you don’t mind-” Satya smiled at the scientist pleasantly. “-I’d like to return to my room and unpack.”

Winston nodded. “Of course. We’ll see you again for dinner?”

“Thank you.” Satya hesitated a moment. “Actually…”

The gorilla turned back to her. “Yes?”

“I wondered if you might have something of a workspace where I can put my tools, I-”

Torbjörn interrupted. “Tools? You build things?”

“I modify my constructs.” She corrected. “I have schematics and things that I use to map out what might be useful before I craft them, and then I like to tinker and see if they can’t be improved.”

The Swedish engineer nodded approvingly. “You can share my workshop.” He offered. “I would like to see your designs!”

“Thank you.” Satya smiled at the small Swedish man in gratitude.

“Come come.” He bustled towards the door, brandishing his beer. “I’ll show ye the way.”

Nodding politely at the agents she left behind in the rec room, Satya walked alongside Torbjörn in a sort of companionable silence, adding these new halls to her mind map of the base until they reached the workshop, which was a wide and spacious room, filled with a forge, multiple worktables, and all manner of equipment.

“What a well appointed room!” Satya said in approval. “I shall be happy to work in here.”

Torbjörn chuckled in agreement. “Aye, she’s a beauty.” He said, gesturing towards his forge with pride. “I’ve crafted many fine things here. Many.” There was a touch of melancholy in his face then, and Satya wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that many of his designs had been used against humanity in the Omnic Crisis.

“I will fetch my tools and set up my things now.” She said. “Thank you for offering to share your space.”

“Naw.” Torbjörn grinned at her from beneath his very impressive beard. “It’s not just my space – but I am the one who uses it most.”

“Nevertheless, I am grateful. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Satya used the time crossing to her room and back to think; the members of Overwatch were clearly extremely passionate about what they did, and while it caused her a great amount of unease to even think of concealing things from Vishkar, she also understood the importance of downplaying their activities while the Petras Act was still in place. Still, it bothered her immensely that what she was doing could be considered illegal – she hoped that by sending her here, Vishkar wasn’t getting in too deep.


	3. Going Legit. Again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat and Roadhog answer Winston's call and decide maybe there's something in going legit after all... but they can't let go of all their criminal ways.

“Oi, Hog!” Junkrat twisted around to see where Roadhog had gone, and shaded his eyes from the sun as he peered around, and then spotted his friend and bodyguard emerging from the shed they’d slept in that night, still buckling his weapons harness around his chest. “Ah, there y’are. Thought I’d lost ya for a tick.”

Roadhog answered in a growling rumble, and Junkrat rolled his eyes.

“Nah, I’m not doubting ya, I’m just wanting ta get a move on, y’know? That monkey fella wants us there soon.”

Now the sound was closer to a laugh, and Junkrat pointed an accusing finger.

“This is _not_ gonna be like last time. He ain’t just a suit, he’s a fightin’ man. Monkey. Whatever.” He spluttered indignantly and waved his hands at his friend. “It don’t matter much! We gonna go legit – again – an' this time there won’t be a suit pullin’ the strings in some dodgy deal. C’mon mate, you’ve heard of Overwatch! They’re respectable an' shit.”

Roadhog exhaled slowly. “If y'say so.” He rumbled, and Junkrat pish-awed him.

“C’mon, we gots’ta keep goin’. Gotta find a ride, gotta get to Gil-ba-trar…”

“Gibraltar.”

“Whatever. Lets go.”

Junkrat hauled his pack onto his back, listening to the familiar jingle of tools and scrap within.

“So where are we now?” He asked, cracking his jaw back into place with his metal hand, and Roadhog grunted as he pulled a map from his pocket. Junkrat frowned at the map as one thick stubby finger pointed.

“Marbella.” He read, frowning. “That’s roight, we were in Mal–aga or however ya say it yesterday. So where d’ya reckon we go now?”

“Boat.” Roadhog traced a line along the Spanish coast until his finger reached Gibraltar, which was where Winston, their new employer, had told them to come.

“Alright. Lets go.” Junkrat drummed his fingers on his thighs and gave Roadhog a toothy grin. “Where d’we get a boat? Which way is it to the sea? Come ta think of it, why the fuck has Overwatch gotta be in Spain for? I don’t fuckin’ well speak Spanish!”

Roadhog merely shrugged, and then motioned to an open top jeep sitting parked down the street. “Fancy a ride?”

“Ah, mate, you’ve outdone yaself.” Junkrat shivered in pure delight, skipping forward a step with a wild grin on his face. “Time for some grand theft auto! How d’ya reckon they say it in Spanish?”

Beside him, his friend and bodyguard shrugged and grunted as they moved towards the jeep. Roadhog clambered into the passenger seat without ceremony and Junkrat contorted himself under the steering wheel, ripping the plastic off to get at the wires beneath.

 _“Oye! Oye!! Mi coche!”_ A man’s shout reached them, and Junkrat popped his head up in time to see Roadhog very casually hoist his scrap gun and point it at the loud Spanish man, who very abruptly shut up when he saw the weapon. Junkrat cackled loudly and slapped his thigh before turning his attention back to the wires he was fiddling with, and then there came the glorious sound of the engine turning over. Jerking himself upright, Junkrat shoved the handbrake down and flattened the accelerator to the floor, howling with laughter as the jeep lurched forwards, swerving down the cobbled street with a screech of tyres, narrowly avoiding the red faced owner of the jeep. Junkrat flipped the now loudly shouting man the bird and then cackled gleefully as the jeep sped down the street.

Roadhog had put his gun down by now and had the map out. “That way.” He rumbled, pointing, and Junkrat reefed the wheel around to the right, drifting around the corner and making several people scream and dive out of the way.

“Hee heee heeee!” He cackled, turning to look at Roadhog. “A glorious day, eh mate?”

Roadhog nodded and pointed left, and Junkrat drifted around that corner and cut another couple of vehicles off, leaving quite the string of chaos and shouting behind them.

They reached the harbour after a couple of minutes, where upon they abandoned the jeep and then blew it up with a nicely placed grenade; the wails of police sirens were drawing closer, and the explosion would be a nice distraction as they booked it further down the road, looking for a pier that would shield them from inquisitive eyes.

“Roight, boat.” Junkrat muttered to himself, drumming the fingers of his good hand on his prosthetic. “What the fuck makes for a decent boat?”

Roadhog shrugged but pointed at a neat speedboat anchored nearby.

“Oooh. Reckon ya can hotwire a boat like ya can a car?” Junkrat cricked his neck and rubbed his hands together. “Guess there’s only one way t’find out.”

They clambered down into the boat and stared confusedly at the controls for a minute, before Junkrat ducked down under the dash (did you call it a dash if it was a boat? He had no idea) and started fucking around with the wires. It took much longer than it would have if they were stealing a car, but eventually, the engine turned over and he gave a whoop of delight. Thankfully, the owner of the boat didn’t seem to be around, so Roadhog took the wheel and reversed out from the boat parking spot and – _crunch_.

“Ah, the bloody fucking anchor!” Junkrat nearly shouted, and then he clambered over to the coils of chain and tugged and pulled until he’d managed to detach the boat from the pier, leaving the anchor piled messily at the back of the boat as Roadhog hit the throttle and the boat shot backwards, scraping lines of paint alongside the two boats parked either side. One of the owners was on board; he ran out on deck and started screeching, so Junkrat casually flicked him a one-fingered salute as he relaxed back into his seat, smudging dirt and grease all over the white leather. In no time Roadhog had figured out the basic controls, and they were zipping over the gentle blue sea in the general direction of Gibraltar.

However, their relaxing ocean ride didn’t stay peaceful for long. The sounds of helicopters filled their ears, and Junkrat sat up to scan the skies, noting the coast guard chopper bearing down on them.

“We got company, Hog.” He said darkly, reaching for his frag launcher and loading it. “Reckon we should blast ‘em? Don’t think the monkey fella would like it but. Ain’t we ‘sposed to be gettin’ on the straight an' narrow?”

Roadhog rumbled through his mask. “Warn ‘em.”

“Good fuckin’ plan.” Junkrat peered at the ocean behind the boat and noticed the multitude of boats approaching… his Spanish was non-existent, but he could recognise the police when he saw them. “Oooh, Hog, here come the piggies!”

Reaching into his pack, Junkrat grabbed a couple of grenades, pulled the pins and lobbed them high enough into the air that they exploded on contact with water, sending enormous craters of water and fire arcing into the air. He let out a gleeful whoop at the sight and tossed a few more, watching as the police boats swerved to avoid the explosions.

“I reckon that bugger in the fancy boat called the coppers on us, mate.” Junkrat cricked his neck. “That bastard.”

Roadhog nodded and agreed as he pushed the boat to a higher speed; Junkrat almost felt like he was gonna get blown out of his seat. After thinking for a moment, he put his seatbelt on. He didn’t particularly feel like drowning today. A news chopper had appeared now, and was following their trail.

“We gotta get rid of these tails.” Junkrat rubbed his good hand through his soot-filled hair and frowned. “Lemme see now…”

Grabbing his frag launcher, he took careful aim at the coast guard chopper and fired; the explosives impacted on the tail and the rear rotor went up with a satisfying _boom_. The chopper wheeled wildly about in the air and he saw the men inside all abandon ship as the helicopter continued on without them, making a beautiful arc down to where it hit the ocean. Just for funsies, he fired again and an enormous explosion rocked the sea.

Junkrat cackled in glee as he reloaded, aiming at the news chopper now; he missed, but realising that they were under fire, the chopper turned in mid air and sped back towards land.

“Two down!” Junkrat yelled, throwing another grenade in the general direction of the police boats. He laughed hysterically when one of the boats swerved to avoid the explosion and crashed directly into another boat, leaving three more in the chase. Grabbing his binoculars out of his pack, Junkrat scanned the remaining boats, and learned something delicious. They weren’t manned by humans – they were entirely staffed by police bots.

“Hehehe… try this one on for size.” He muttered as he hefted his frag launcher and fired several shots, connecting with one of the boats on the second shot. The vessel exploded in a beautiful fireball of bots and wood, and Junkrat grinned with lethal joy as he lined up his next shot.

When he’d taken out their tails, he turned to the driver.

“We’re in the clear, Hog. Get us the fuck out of here.”

Roadhog grunted and pushed the throttle even higher, and their little speedboat was fairly flying across the waves. Junkrat kept an eye out for more police, and though they did get ambushed several more times, he blew up each and every police vessel that came for them (and downed two more choppers too, waving gleefully at the bobbing crewmembers he could see in the waves), they eventually managed to lose most of their tails, and then nearly an hour later, Roadhog grunted.

“Gibraltar, dead ahead.”

“You bewdy.” Junkrat peered at the weird half island looking thing – geography was not his strong suite – and frowned, for he could hear sirens on the shore. “So how do we get to the base without leadin’ a whole pack a coppers there?”

Roadhog chuckled deeply, and instructed him to unbuckle his seatbelt and gather up everything. Junkrat obeyed with some nervousness, eyeing his friend suspiciously.

“We ain’t gonna jump, are we? ‘Cause mate, I don’t wanna fuck up me arm an' leg in the water-”

Roadhog told him not to worry, and then he jammed the fucking throttle full bore against the dash.

Junkrat eyed these goings-on with suspicion, and then doubt when Roadhog stood up, not bothering to steer. He was just opening his mouth to ask what in the fuck Roadie was doing, when the big man yanked him up in his arms and _jumped_.

Junkrat swore very loudly, but instead of ending up in the sea like he expected, Roadhog had landed on a goddamn pier. That sneaky bastard sure could time a jump perfectly.

“Holy _fuck_ , mate.” Junkrat got up on his own two feet and passed Roadie his weapons. “Give a bloke a bit of warning next time, eh?”

Roadhog chuckled from beneath the mask, and then the now abandoned and still speeding speedboat plunged into the side of a very expensive looking catamaran and went up in a huge orange fireball.

“ _Noice_.” Junkrat said, eyes wide as he took in the explosion, and then Roadhog grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and yanked him along the pier. “Roight. Time to get to base.” He paused. “Where the fuck is the base?”

Roadhog jerked his head up towards a big rock looking thing. “Up there. Didn’t you listen to 'im at all?”

“To be perfectly honest mate, I tuned out after he told us we was gettin’ paid.”

Roadie shook his head, and then the stealth part of the mission began. They had to creep along the Gibraltar shore and avoid the coppers starting to swarm the boat fire, and then get up to the base without being spotted and starting a manhunt. There were some close shaves a couple of times, but they made it, mostly by crossing over the rooftops and hiding whenever a news or police chopper went past.

Eventually, however, they reached the little nook they’d been instructed to wait at, where an Overwatch agent would pick them up once they made the call. Junkrat flopped down on the ground as Roadhog peered out the windows to make sure they hadn’t been followed, and then they sent the message through. They got a reply almost instantly, and were told to wait; Agent McCree was on his way.

They sat and enjoyed some squashed and sooty corned beef sandwiches, and by the time there came a knock at the door, they were sated and talking animatedly about the various explosions caused that day.

Junkrat climbed to his feet, as did Roadhog when the door opened to reveal a tall and darkly scruffy looking man in a bona fide cowboy outfit.

“Junkrat and Roadhog?” The man drawled in a Southern accent as he nudged the hat worn crooked on his brow.

“Yeah, that’s us, mate.” Junkrat cracked his neck as the cowboy looked amused. He noticed the cowboy had a prosthetic arm beneath his worn scarlet serape.

“Jesse McCree. Now, I gotta ask you straight up… what in th’ nine fucks have you fellas been up to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wherein we find that Junkrat and Roadhog are complete lunatics, and start to maybe feel a bit sorry for what Satya's gonna have to deal with in the upcoming chapters~


	4. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya meets the two Australian mercenaries - and they aren't quite what she expected.

Satya took her place a little off to the side of the impromptu welcome parade as they all waited for the doors to open – the two Australian mercenaries were arriving shortly. In fact, McCree had already been dispatched to meet them, after they’d called in their position, amidst reports of multiple explosions up towards Marbella. Athena was currently scanning the news for more reports, but it made the atmosphere slightly tense all the same – perhaps their two new recruits had run into trouble with Talon agents sniffing around the town. There’d been reports of strange black armoured men and women lurking about, so it wasn’t completely out of question.

She shifted slightly, taking the weight off one foot, and her movement caught Mei-Ling’s attention, and they paused to smile slightly at one another. The cheerful climatologist had arrived the week before, and Satya genuinely liked her. She was kind and easy to talk to, and she didn’t press you into conversation. No, Mei was turning out to be one of her favourite members of Overwatch that she’d met since.

To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t even sure why she was part of the welcome gang. Seeing as she wasn’t an actual member of Overwatch, she didn’t really need to be there, but curiosity made her attend. She wanted to see what sort of men the Australians were; did they match up to the sleek, mysterious mercenary images she’d constructed in her mind?

From outside the door, there seemed to be a murmur of voices approaching, and then there came the distinct sound of someone dropping something heavy. It was metal from the sounds of things, and then over the rattling _clang_ there came a peal of maniacal laughter. Satya blinked. Who had made that laugh? Around her, the other Overwatch agents were making similarly confused faces, and then the door opened to reveal McCree as he escorted inside two – _lunatics_.

Satya stared. She couldn’t help herself, but everyone else was staring too, so she didn't feel _too_ bad. The two Australians didn’t look anything like what she’d expected. One was tall and lanky with a distinct air of insanity around him, and she noted that he was covered with a fair layer of filth. He had grenades and small bombs strapped to his otherwise bare chest, and then she blinked at his prosthetics – he’d evidently lost both limbs on the right side of his body, and replaced them with prosthetics that seemed wildly constructed and the complete opposite of neat and inconspicuous, particularly the leg, which instead of having a replica of a human foot, was a peg leg painted bright orange.

Well, she supposed there was no accounting for taste.

The second mercenary was a huge, intimidating beast of a man who wore a mask in the shape of a pig snout. That intrigued her – was it a stylistic choice or was there genuine need behind the mask? This man too was bare-chested, his upper body clad in nothing but a harness that held some sort of weaponry to his back, and his enormous belly had the face of a pig tattooed over it, which seemed like a peculiar sort of theme to be had. Overall, the two men looked fit for a straightjacket rather than a place on the battlefield.

“Gentlemen.” Winston ambled towards the mercenaries, and Satya raised a brow. She’d never seen anything less like a gentleman in all her life.

“Welcome to Gibraltar watchpoint.” The gorilla continued. “I hope your journey was pleasant.”

“Oh, it was, yeah.” The lanky one nodded, and she noticed with distaste that along with the soot in his blond hair, the ends seemed to be… _singed_. How strange. “Good ta be here though.”

“Overwatch is glad to have you both. Everyone, our newest recruits, Junkrat and Roadhog.”

 _Junkrat and Roadhog?_ What kind of names were _they?_ She couldn’t help her sniff; they couldn’t even come up with halfway decent monikers.

“Good t'be here at last, eh Roadie?” The one named Junkrat did a funny sort of jig on the spot, his smile too crazy to be comfortable.

The massive one – Roadhog – nodded slowly, and didn’t speak, his eyes barely visible through the mask he wore.

Winston went through and introduced all of them in turn, and Satya merely nodded as Junkrat and Roadhog’s gaze turned in her direction. They were both clearly insane, Junkrat more than the other – what was Winston playing at by recruiting two irradiated lunatics? For it was clear that they weren’t just Australians – they were _Junkers_ , and would probably give them all radiation poisoning.

Satya slipped away soon after that, pondering things. Perhaps Winston was very desperate if he’d started recruiting such creatures as the Australians. At that moment, her Vishkar issued commlink beeped in her ear, indicating a message. Getting to the privacy of her room as soon as possible, she hit the button that would play the message, and sat down in her chair as the recording played. Vishkar preferred to send pre-recorded messages, to ensure only the most necessary details were spoken aloud.

“Greetings, Symmetra.” The recorded voice of her coworker, Sanjay Korpal, crackled for a moment. “We’ve received intel of disturbances in the area, as well as reports of two individuals that resemble Junkers – we’ll require an additional report, seeing as the one you submitted two days ago is now lacking in details. I await your transmission. Korpal out.”

Her comm beeped to indicate the recording had ended, and Satya sighed slightly before she pressed record, thinking over what she was going to say while she waited for the beep. Vishkar evidently did have eyes on the base if they knew of the Australians’ arrival. Then again, they’d arrived at Gibraltar by boat, according to McCree's update on the situation. Not the most inconspicuous method of transport available. But… _disturbances?_ What had the Junkers gotten themselves in to?

There came a beep, and she started to speak. “Transmission received.” She said in her most business-like manner. “I’ll collect the necessary data now in the hopes of having generated a new report by tomorrow morning at the latest. Symmetra out.” At this audio signal, the recorder beeped three times, then paused for a moment before she heard three beeps in fast succession, indicating that it’d been sent.

Standing up, she rubbed her temples slightly and readjusted her comm’s position in her ear, and remained in her room typing up a new report for over an hour, and then when she was finished, she went to find Winston. As she emerged from the barracks, however, she turned a corner and walked smack bang into a large stomach emblazoned with a tattoo of the porcine variety.

Satya rubbed her nose and looked up at Roadhog, who was looking down her in silence. Unable to see his expression, the moment grew very uncomfortable very fast.

“I beg your pardon.” She apologised rather stiffly. “I ought to have been more careful.”

Roadhog made a sort of noise that could have been a word disguised in a grunt, but she wasn’t sure.

At that moment, a loud and rambunctious Australian voice echoed down the hall. “Oi Hog! Where’ve ya gone?”

Junkrat’s distinctive gait reached her before he did; the clanking of his metal leg instantly giving away his location. Distantly, she made a note to never be anywhere near him if they were in any sort of situation that required stealth.

“Ay, it’s the Vishkar suit.” Junkrat dragged his hand through his hair and gave her a toothy grin, though she could see a funny sort of suspicion in his eyes. Satya eyed the soot drifting down to his shoulders and barely contained a shudder. “G’day. What’d ya say yer name was?”

“I didn't. You may call me Symmetra.” She replied, wondering how best to extract herself; Roadhog was pretty much blocking her path. Wait a moment. Did he just call her a _suit?_

“How long have y'been here?” Junkrat seemed to want to make conversation; that was annoying.

“A few weeks.” Satya steeled her nerves then; it was her job to find out information. “So, you are to be our demolitions expert, I believe?”

Junkrat’s grin widened, if that were possible. She noted a golden tooth. “Yep.” He said, sounding very satisfied. “I’m yer new expert in all things explodey.”

Satya nodded coolly. “That’s nice. Please excuse me; I have somewhere to be.”

The two Junkers drew to the side as she passed, and as she reached the end of the hallway, she distinctly heard an Australian accent say, “I don’t think she liked me, mate.”

She couldn’t explain why, but she felt a prickle of discomfort at that. Lifting her chin, Satya moved down the hall at an increased pace; Roadhog was intimidating and almost larger than life, but he didn’t _intrude_ like his partner did – she’d barely known Junkrat for half a day and already he gave her the distinct impression that he didn’t respect the notion of verbal space.

Satya was heading to find Winston when she passed the rec area. Noting the hubbub within, she peered in through the door to find a fair crowd huddled around the wall mounted television units – and was just in time to see the explosion as a speedboat collided with a catamaran and went up in a fireball.

“Symmetra!” Mei motioned at her. “Have you seen this?”

Satya shook her head and drew closer. “No. What is it?”

“Some explosions and a boat chase starting in Marbella and ending in Gibraltar, courtesy of our new Australian friends.”

Satya raised a brow as on the tv a news reporter spoke rapidly in Spanish as in the distance, a small explosive fired from a boat collided with the tail of a helicopter and sent it crashing into the ocean.

“ _They_ did that? Has anyone been killed?” Satya worried her bottom lip with her teeth; what was Winston _thinking_ , hiring two such irresponsible fools?

Thankfully, Mei shook her head. “Nope, luckily for them. Winston’s pretty mad though – he’s already chewed them out a bit.”

“The filthy one does not seem to be affected by harsh words.” Hanzo murmured, and McCree nodded.

“He’s one o’ them fellas a man just can’t speak at if he ain’t inclined to listen.”

A tiny burst of humour tugged fruitlessly at her lips – McCree certainly had a way with words.

“Want to watch?” Mei tapped the sofa next to her, and this time Satya actually did smile, though the thought of sitting so close to everyone with no avenue for escape made her feel a little uncomfortable.

“Thank you, but I’m busy. I will see you later.”

She left the rec area and upon finding Winston deep in a call with someone, she retreated from his area of the base and headed back to the workshop. Torbjörn was in there, and he looked up at her entry and nodded in greeting, before he went back to work.

While Satya privately found his designs rudimentary and rather aesthetically unappealing, the Swedish engineer largely left her in peace to work, which was refreshing and enjoyable, and so she and he got along quite well in the silence. Sitting down at her workbench, Satya hummed a tune under her breath as she poured over her schematics, pulling the turret she’d been working on towards her once more, resolving to put the lunatic Australians out of her mind; there was no reason why their arrival should bother her more than anyone else’s. They were simple, unsophisticated fools who took delight in mayhem and destruction. Perhaps that’s why they jarred against her; order and discipline ranked high in her life, and the two Junkers were her complete opposite. 


	5. Shared Spaces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat has his first proper conversation with Symmetra.

Junkrat frowned slightly as he lugged his loaded duffel bag down the halls, looking for the workshop Winston had said he could use. He and Roadhog had arrived at Overwatch the day before, and after a relaxing night in an actual bed, he was on his way to set up his equipment while Roadhog hunted down the gym. He scratched at his chin with his metal hand and cracked his neck before continuing on, his prosthetic leg clanking on the metal floor. Everything was metal in the Overwatch base, and though it was a bit too surgical looking for his liking, it was a decent sort of place. He found the workshop at last (that pommy girl had shown him the trick of asking the base AI for directions), and was fairly pleased to find it empty.

When he walked inside, however, he quickly realised that there was someone sitting at a workbench up against the far wall, tucked mostly out of sight. He wrinkled his nose – it was the Indian suit, the Vishkar girl, what’s ‘er name – Symmetra. She turned in her seat when she heard his footsteps, and he nodded at her.

“G’day.” He didn’t like suits, but he supposed if he had to live in the same base as her he could stomach a little politeness.

“Good morning.” She replied, her accent heavy and her words soft. “Have you come to work on something? Or are you looking for Torbjörn?”

“I’m here t'work. Winston said I could have a space to make me supplies. Where’s best?”

Symmetra stood up and walked towards him, and he got good look at her prosthetic arm for the first time since he and Roadie had arrived yesterday. Her arm was in much better nick than his – all smooth and sleek and glossy white metal. Very ladylike.

“This way.” She said, her voice cool and rather emotionless. “Torbjörn has shifted his creations from the workbenches along this wall for anyone else who wants to work here, as some of the others do occasionally.” She motioned behind her in a very fluid sort of movement, and Junkrat blinked at how elegant her motions were. She was like a bloody ballerina. “My bench is over there, and that one is Torbjörn’s, but you may have your pick of these.”

He hefted his duffel bag up onto one of the empty workbenches and grinned at the suit. “Cheers.”

She barely smiled, only the tips of her full lips curving. “You are welcome.” Symmetra turned and went back over to her bench then, sitting down and picking up a sleek white instrument. Junkrat proceeded to ignore her as he set about unpacking his duffel bag, setting his various explosives down with loving care. Disregarding the chair in favour of sitting down on the floor with a mine between his legs, Junkrat pulled out a screwdriver and began rifling through his bag of supplies, looking for the various components that would turn it from a dud to a live explosive. He remained immersed in what he was doing for some time, until blue light sparking from over in Symmetra’s direction caught his attention.

To his utter surprise, he watched her do some complicated movement with her hand and then the blue light turned into a… shape? Which she then fiddled around with until it became an actual piece of metal, which she grabbed and began to screw into some sort of sleek white device on her bench? Junkrat blinked and looked again. How the bloody hell…?

As he watched, she did it again, this time a differently shaped fragment appearing out of thing air in her hands.

“Oi!” He said, standing up and letting his tools clang to the floor. “What’s that glowy stuff? How’re y'doing that?”

Symmetra looked over her shoulder. _“Glowy?”_ She enunciated it slowly, as if she found the word distasteful. “You mean my hard light?”

“Is it blue and glowy?”

She nodded, and he did too.

“So ya call yer glowy blue shit hard light. Whatever that is.”

She frowned at him. “Have you never heard of an architech before?”

“Ahhh.” Junkrat nodded as sagely as he could. “Yer one of them. A _fancy_ suit.”

Symmetra raised a perfectly arched brow. “I beg your pardon? A _suit?”_

“Yeah, a suit. A real fancy type runnin’ round with money an' contracts an' dodgy dealings.”

Her mouth settled into an unimpressed line. “The Vishkar Corporation does not do ‘dodgy’ deals.”

Junkrat snorted. “Heh, sure.”

She looked even more unimpressed, and he interrupted whatever she was going to say.

“What are ya makin'?”

Symmetra watched him for a long moment, as if she was seriously debating answering. “I’m refining the design for my teleporter.” She said finally, and he let out a low whistle.

“ _Noice_. How’d y'build ‘em?”

“I craft them from hard light, like all my constructs.”

Junkrat eyed her curiously. “How does it work?” he hadn’t exactly meant to get drawn into a conversation with the Indian suit, but fuck him if her hard light bullshit wasn’t actually interesting.

“Are you asking for a demonstration?” She asked, and his lips twitched into a grin.

“If y'wouldn’t mind.” He tried to be suave for a movement – she was a suit, she’d like that. Probably.

Symmetra repeated those complicated hand movements he’d seen her make before, and Junkrat furrowed his brow as blue light shimmered out of the palm of her prosthetic – that’s new, he thought absently – and she then manipulated the light with her other hand, teasing and shaping it until it took on the form of a pyramid, which spun gently while suspended above her palm.

“How does it work?” He reached out and poked at the light; his fingers hit the spinning pyramid and it fizzled out of existence.

 _“Excuse you.”_ Symmetra dipped into a language he didn’t recognise then, the sound rich and lush on her tongue as she glared and pulled back. They moved at the same time, and his good hand ended up brushing over the sleek metal of her prosthetic. Junkrat ignore her protests, though somewhere in the back of his mind he decided that she must be speaking whatever language she spoke back in India – Hindu or Hindi or something, wasn’t it?

“Hey, c’mon, give us a squiz.”

Symmetra very obviously lost her train of thought. _“Squiz?_ What do you mean?”

_Indian, right._

“A look. Can I look at it? I’ve never seen an architech up close.”

“Oh.” Her wary expression eased slightly but her shoulders remained tense, and Junkrat snickered.

“What’re y'so jumpy for? I ain’t gonna bite ya.”

Symmetra merely frowned. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t touch me while I am manipulating my hard light. I need to concentrate or it will fail.”

“Roighto, no touchin’ or y’ll get stroppy.” Junkrat flashed her grin as he held up both hands in a gesture of submission.

“Stroppy?” She was frowning now as she grabbed a polishing cloth and carefully wiped the soot and grease from the shimmering white plates of her arm, and Junkrat ran his tongue around the edges of his teeth as he watched her. “You use too many phrases I am unfamiliar with.”

“’Sorry mate. Guess I’m just used to runnin’ round with Roadie. He knows what I’m on about.”

“That’s becoming exceedingly clear.” She murmured.

“Will ya do it again, ‘Metra?”

Symmetra narrowed her eyes. “’Metra? You may address me as Symmetra, _not_ ‘Metra.” She said curtly, still frowning.

Junkrat sighed; she was so very _touchy_. “‘Pologies, _Symmetra_. Nicknames mustn’t be much of a thing in India, huh?”

A tiny furrow appeared between her brows. “No.” She said slowly. “At least, not like that.” He got the distinct impression that she meant _and not like you._

“So will you?” He asked. “Make that lil triangle thingo again.”

Symmetra looked rather unimpressed with him, but all the same she raised her hands, twirling her fingers about and twisting the blue light into a second pyramid. This time, he kept his hands to himself, and she spun it into a solid object which she then placed it into his hands.

Junkrat was quiet for a long moment as he examined the cool white metal paperweight looking thing she’d conjured out of mid-air like a fucking wizard. “Absolutely mental.” He murmured, then looked up at her. “That’s a ripper of a hand y'got there.”

Symmetra looked puzzled, a furrow between her brows. “…Ripper?”

“Good.” He elaborated, amused. Junkrat turned his attention back to the paperweight – the cool metal shimmered, and as hard as he looked, he couldn’t distinguish it from the real thing. “Unbelievable.” He muttered. “Can I keep it?”

Symmetra kept her face neutral, but he thought she looked a tiny bit pleased – the corners of her mouth twitched up.

“If you wish.” She said. “But I cannot see why. It has no function.”

“It’s a hunk of metal you straight up pulled outta the air.” Junkrat grinned at her. “It’s roight spiffy, that’s what it is.”

Now she was smiling, just a tiny bit. “Thank you.”

Junkrat nodded and lifted his good hand, dragging it through his hair. “Alright.” Turning, he made his way back over to his side of the room, where he twisted the little pyramid in his fingers once more before setting it on his bench, and then he turned to the pile he’d left on the floor and had just sat down when he heard indignant spluttering behind him.

“Is that a _landmine?”_ Symmetra sounded horrified, and Junkrat threw her a grin.

“Sure is.”

“It’s not live, is it?”

Junkrat laughed – she actually sounded _anxious_.

“Nah, it’s a dud. For now.”

“For now.” Symmetra swept around to stand in front of him, giving him a hard stare. “Are you planning to blow up the base?”

“Nah, I’m just stockpiling me supplies.”

“Of course.” She said cautiously. “Just out of curiosity, does Winston know about this ‘stockpiling’?”

“Course he does. He told me to.” Junkrat ignored her in favour of gripping a socket wrench in his teeth as he used both hands to wrestle with the mine shell, which was being stubborn.

“Very well. I will leave you to blow yourself up in peace.”

Symmetra walked back over to her desk, and Junkrat found himself absentmindedly following the sway of her hips in her form fitting slacks. She might be a suit, but she had one hell of a set of legs. Putting her out of his mind as she sat down and began fiddling with her fancy constructs, Junkrat burrowed back into the happy space of his bombs, forgetting everyone and everything else.


	6. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya meets Lúcio - and neither of them enjoy it.

Satya had now been at Gibraltar for precisely three and a half weeks, and there had been one new arrival since Junkrat and Roadhog had arrived. Hana “D.Va” Song was a recruit from South Korea, a world champion ex-gamer who had converted her talents into the necessary skillset required to pilot a MEKA, an armoured tank used in the fight against the rogue omnics that still plagued her home country.

D.Va was a new recruit, someone who hadn’t been a part of the original Overwatch, and so Winston had asked her to keep it from Vishkar’s reports, but Satya had had no choice to inform him that Vishkar already knew of her arrival – they’d heard information from South Korea through their contacts in the UN. She had, however, sat and thought intensely until she’d come up with a way to innocently find out how much surveillance the Gibraltar base was under by inquiring how much she needed to personally report on. After all, the point she had made said, there was no point in duplicating data if outside agents could tell them the same thing. Her superiors had agreed with her and Satya had subsequently been informed that there were a few Vishkar agents stationed throughout Gibraltar, but there was only one main watch point at the base itself, and operating under her belief that Vishkar and Overwatch had no reason to be suspicious of one another, she had informed Winston, who had informed Athena, who now had security drones making regular sweeps over the area just to keep an eye on things.

Hearing a Korean battle cry and then the sound of a simulated explosion, Satya turned her head to see D.Va looking precisely as a girl of her age should while wiping the floor with McCree at some sort of game. D.Va was a bubbly nineteen year old, much too young to be an agent in Satya’s opinion, but she had to admit that the girl knew how to handle her mech. They had been training for a portion of every day, working on team building exercises so that they all knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and how to play off that knowledge to their best advantage while out in the field. Satya participated in training, though Winston had initially been unsure if she would; she disliked killing, but Vishkar had told her to fully integrate herself within Overwatch, and so she was determined to utilise her skills in any way that might be helpful.

D.Va’s presence brought the number of Overwatch agents up again, and Satya nibbled at her lip as she thought things over. Winston, Reinhardt, Torbjörn, McCree, Genji, Mercy, Tracer and Mei were all original members, and so far with their presence they technically weren’t breaking the Petras Act. Technically. But with the additions of D.Va, Hanzo, Junkrat, Roadhog and herself, things were looking dicey if the UN decided to take a closer look at their operations.

Though she'd been sitting in the rec room reading, the competition between McCree and D.Va was getting a bit loud for her liking, so Satya stood up and wanded back towards the workshop, her thoughts drifting back to Winston, whom she'd left alone in his lab as he moved into overdrive in an attempt to recruit as many operatives as possible before the UN really retaliated for breaking the Petras Act. She had left him after becoming slightly disturbed at hearing there was a new recruit from Brazil due to arrive soon. She hadn’t mentioned it to Winston, which perhaps wasn’t smart, but she recognised his name.

In fact, she doubted there were many Vishkar agents who wouldn’t.

So. This ought to be interesting – she now had the bad luck to be soon coming face to face with the man who’d driven Vishkar out of Rio de Janerio – Lúcio Correia dos Santos had been elevated to the status of celebrity for that.

Satya really wasn’t looking forward to meeting him.

Satya’s breath hissed between her teeth as she loosened a screw, tapping one finger on the schematics she was following as she fiddled about with one of her turrets. She was trying to improve the design and increase firepower with the physical copy here, so that when out in the field and constructing hard-light turrets, it’d be a better version than the one she was doing now.

Finishing her recalibrations, she set the turret down and activated it in safety mode. The moment the turret blinked online, it made a mechanical gagging noise and powered down, leaving her frowning at it intently. Grabbing the schematics, she scowled at it, wondering where she’d gone wrong.

Satya was late to dinner that night because she was so busy with her constructs, but the second she walked into the kitchen she realised there was a new addition. A young man clad in bright green sat at the table next to D.Va, chattering animatedly away with a distinctly Brazilian accent. So. Lúcio had arrived a touch earlier than she had anticipated.

She walked past a few tables on her way to food, nodding curtly at Junkrat as he raised two fingers at her; according to what Reinhardt had told her when she’d been griping about it, Australians tended to acknowledge everyone’s presence with some sort of gesture. It annoyed her; why did he do it? It only opened up the option for further interaction when that was the last thing she wanted.

The young Brazilian man stood up when he saw her – he had a sort of boyish charm about him as he grinned at her.

“Well, hey!” He said, accent brimming with vigour. “Haven’t met you yet. I got here ‘bout an hour ago.”

“I was in the workshop.” Satya said warily in reply. “You must be Lúcio.”

“That I am!” He said comfortably. “Lúcio Correia dos Santos, world famous-” The words died on his lips as his gaze fastened on the Vishkar emblem on her blouse. “Vishkar?” He barely murmured the word.

“My name is Symmetra.” She said calmly. “I am here as an extension of Vishkar-”

Lúcio spun on the spot, pointing accusingly at Winston. “Man, you ain’t said anything about Vishkar bitches!”

Satya’s mouth dropped open and indignation burned through her as Winston raised a calming hand.

“Now, Lúcio-”

“What did you just call me?” Satya asked slowly, her words icy, and Lúcio swung around to glare at her. Over to the side, she saw Junkrat raise his brows, elbow Roadhog and put down his drink to watch. That annoyed her more than it should have.

“You heard me.” Disdain dripped from Lúcio’s words. “Vishkar bitch. You and your kind almost ruined Rio.”

She narrowed her eyes but contained her emotions. “I would rather not get into this now.”

Lúcio scoffed. “‘Course not. Would it _inconvenience_ you?”

Satya bit the inside of her cheek to avoid retaliating as she turned towards the kitchen in an attempt to get her dinner.

“Hah. Can’t face up to the truth, can she? Even Vishkar can’t deny they fucked Rio up good.” Lúcio’s tone was so insulting that Satya spun on the spot and narrowed her eyes.

“It was _not_ our fault.”

Lúcio’s eyes widened and then narrowed as he leaned over the table. “How do you figure _that?”_

 _This is going well._ Satya stepped forwards to meet his challenge, ignoring McCree as he put a cautionary hand on her shoulder… and ignoring the twinge of guilt she felt whenever she thought about Rio. Instead, she aimed to defend her company. “Rio did not act wisely. Vishkar would have changed your lives. Given you _utopia_.”

“Your corporation was on the brink of destroying all our history, all our traditions.” He snarled, and Satya scowled, letting her anger break through her calm mask.

“Sometimes tradition is destroyed and that can’t be helped.” She frowned delicately at him, wiping a speck of imaginary dust from her metal hand. “You would rather your people suffer in poverty rather than the perfection we could have given them?”

“Whoa there, maybe you should break it up there, kiddoes-” McCree attempted to interject, but Lúcio spoke right over the top of him.

“Vishkar exploited our people! Curfews! Illegal detainment! Excessive violence if we tried to resist! What you could never understand is that people need to be free!”

“And that was your mistake.” Satya struggled to keep herself calm. “What you call freedom is merely an illusion, one that causes you more harm than good.”

“How on earth do you figure that? The only harm in our neighbourhoods was your corporation! I bet you wonder why we revolted.” Lúcio’s eyes were full of loathing.

Satya ground her teeth, the environment starting to get to her. They were now the centre of attention, and she _hated_ confrontations. “Vishkar’s goal is order and stability. When you started rocking the boat, is it any wonder we had to tighten our grip?”

Rage flared in his eyes. “Well, we got rid of you in the end.” He said with relish, and Satya narrowed her eyes, officially at the end of her tether.

“Indeed you did.” She flattened her palms on the table and chose her next words carefully, delicately. “What does your rap sheet say? Trespassing? Theft? Destruction of Vishkar property? Inciting rebellion? You are still a wanted man, Lúcio Correia dos Santos, yet Vishkar is as of now unaware of your exact whereabouts. If you wish to remain a free man, _you’ll hold your tongue.”_

There were some gasps from the people gathered around the confrontation, and then McCree wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her back from the table as Reinhardt grabbed the back of Lúcio’s hoodie and bodily lifted him into the air to move him back.

“All right, that’ll do you two.” Winston said sternly. “I know there is bad blood between Rio and Vishkar, but I don’t want this compromising anything. Lúcio, you should know that Symmetra is not here to formally join Overwatch. Vishkar have sent her here to observe and foster relations between our company and hers. They're funding us. Remember that this recall is still illegal; if they are willing to give us aid, we can’t afford to be picky.”

“They won’t help you! They’re only in it for their own gain!” Lúcio spat, and Satya saw red.

“You only say that because the venture in Rio failed to go to according to plan.” She hissed with quiet menace.

Lúcio pointed accusingly at her. “Venture! Venture! Listen to her talk! You’d think we were in a board meeting! People died because of your lot! Don’t you care? Or didn’t you know?”

“Of course I knew.” She snapped. “Sometimes conflict is unavoidable, though we did everything we could to protect civilians!” A twinge of guilt snapped through her. Did they? She shook it off. Of course they did.

“You filthy liar!” Lúcio seethed, now being held back by Reinhardt’s grip on his arms. “You _killed_ us!”

“Jesse! Take her outside!” Mercy was hovering worriedly, and Satya felt herself get yanked off her feet by the cowboy still holding her back and bodily carried out the door.

“Ack! Put me down!” She struggled in his grip, and then McCree put her back down on her feet, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Steady up there, firecracker.” He drawled. “Let’s not come to blows.”

Satya took a deep breath and frowned at him as she pushed her hair back behind her shoulders as the door opened and Hanzo came out, followed by Mercy.

“Is everything alright out here?” The doctor’s Swiss accented words were soft and worried.

“It’s fine.” Satya said stiffly. “I apologise – I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that.”

“You’re a good deal more rational than he is – Lúcio is not happy.” That was the understatement of the century – they could all hear the stream of agitated Portuguese issuing from the next room.

“I understand that, and I believe he has every right to be angry. Things were not handled as well as they could have been in Rio.” Satya attempted to straighten her blouse, rumpled from McCree hoisting her into the air, and then smoothed her hair.

“You could tell Lúcio that.” Hanzo suggested, his dragon tattoo shifting as he folded his arms.

“I would have, but he kept insulting us.”

“Either way, that was one hell of a threat.” The Japanese man hitched his lips into a slow smirk, and McCree sniggered behind her.

“Ain’t that the truth. Thought the kid’s eyes were gonna pop out.”

Satya couldn’t help a somewhat smug smile. “I said nothing but the truth.” Guilt nibbled at her then. “The task assigned to me is to observe and aid Overwatch, but now that Lúcio is here… he is a wanted criminal in the eyes of my superiors. Were it to be found that I knew where he was and didn’t report it…” She trailed off. She’d be disgraced, stripped of her rank and demoted. She shivered slightly. It was not an appealing future.

“Listen.” She said. “I don’t want to fight with Lúcio again tonight. Can someone bring me some dinner? I’ll go back to my room. It’ll make things easier and give him some time to calm down.”

“Good idea.” Mercy nodded at her. “It’ll give everyone time to wind down. I will get you dinner.”

Satya turned to the two men leaning against the walls as the doctor disappeared back through the door.

McCree exchanged a look with Hanzo, then raised a lazy brow. “You got an on an’ off switch or what?”

“I beg your pardon?” Satya frowned, confused.

“You were jus’ madder than a hornet, all wound up and ready to sting, and now you look like a block of ice.”

“Once removed from the source of my anger, I find it quite easy to calm down.” She replied, pulling her fingers through her hair. “Once away from Lúcio and his outrageous claims, I can think rationally and calm myself.”

“It’s impressive. You’d wanna teach your lil tricks to some of the other hotheads on the team.” The cowboy drawled, and Satya smiled slightly.

“High praise.” She said wryly, making Hanzo scoff and McCree look mock offended at the archer’s reaction. She’d been right about Hanzo’s skill set after all, a fact which pleased her greatly.

The door opened then, and Mercy emerged bearing two loaded plates. “Reinhardt served.” She said apologetically, obviously meaning the monstrous serving size. “Here.”

Satya took her food and smiled at the Swiss doctor. “Thank you. I’ll take my leave now, if you could possibly tell Winston that I will need to speak to him soon about Lúcio? You understand that I will need to report his whereabouts to Vishkar.”

Unease shone in Mercy’s eyes. “I’ll… speak to Winston. You enjoy your meal now.”

Satya nodded and after Hanzo, McCree and Mercy had gone back into the rec room, she turned and headed not to her rooms like she’d been planning, but to the workshop instead. Sitting down at her workbench, she absentmindedly picked at her food as she examined her schematics again. Lúcio’s little outburst niggled at the back of her mind, however, and she found herself returning again and again to his words, his accusations. Vishkar was a force of good in this world, she told herself firmly. There was no reason to doubt them – what happened in Rio had merely been a mistake, an unfortunate mix of unfavourable circumstances that had resulted in a slight failure on the part of her corporation, but then again, Rio had retaliated in their little uprising. Neither party was free of blame. Lúcio had no right to speak to her the way he had. Still, his words hung in the back of her mind – but she was right. Vishkar was good… weren’t they?

“'Metra?”

She cursed under her breath and looked up. Of course Junkrat would materialise when she wanted to be left alone.

“Junkrat.” She said as evenly as possible, trying to hide her inner turmoil.

“Y’good?” He inquired, metal leg clanking on the ground as he crossed to his bench. “That was some blue ya just had.”

She assumed _blue_ meant fight or argument or something. Honestly, his Australianisms were confusing. “I’m fine.” She said curtly.

“If ya reckon so.” Junkrat nodded at her as he finished shoving some random bits and bobs into his pockets, and then departed. Satya stared after him, only looking down when the clunk of his steps faded – what did he mean? Was he implying-? She shook her head and scowled. It was like… for a second, he’d gotten inside her head and knew she had doubts, but… he’d also left her alone to sort through them. It was a rather discomforting thought, but she couldn’t exactly put her finger on _why_.


	7. Sneak Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat has a run in with Talon and ends up getting flustered over the last person he'd have expected.

Junkrat cackled to himself as he hit the detonator switch and the mine exploded with a satisfying _boom_. Popping up from behind the protective screen (his testing ground wasn’t quite large enough to go unshielded, which irritated him, and Winston had insisted on a barrier), he examined the cloud of smoke and the spread of shrapnel.

“Hmmm. Reach isn’t wide enough.” He muttered, grabbing his notes and scribbling down his newest observations.

Turning to his stockpile, Junkrat traced his canines with his tongue as he deliberated which bomb to detonate next. Picking up a concussion mine, he lugged it towards the middle of the range and set it down, checking the wiring for a moment. He’d been experimenting with mines that would give him more range, but not so much that he’d risk breaking something on the way down. It was a delicate balance to reach. Scribbling some more notes in his pad to record the changes, he primed the mine, stood atop it, and lifted his thumb from the detonator.

And then a bullet smacked into the ground beside him.

So used to being shot at, Junkrat was off the mine and sprinting before his brain even fully registered that he was being fired at. More and more bullets impacted the ground as he sprinted towards the door. He grabbed a grenade from his belt, spun and launched it at the flying drone that was bearing down on him; Junkrat’s eyes widened the second his gaze landed on the Talon insignia. _The bloody fucking bastards._ He tore towards the door as the grenade exploded behind him and realised with a sinking feeling that he would be riddled with bullet holes before he could input the security code.

 _Fuck_.

And then the doors opened just as he was slowing down to try and open it anyway. Caught off guard, Junkrat stumbled and faltered as a glowing blue ball of light hit his chest and _expanded_ somehow, flowing over his body. It felt… phenomenally strange – and then a bullet slammed into his shoulder. Junkrat’s breath seized in his lungs as a sleek white hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, yanking him sideways so forcefully he tripped on his own feet and went crashing to the floor, taking Symmetra with him.

“Ah, shit!”

“Ack! _Mujhe utaaro!”_

They landed on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs; her hand whacked him soundly over the ear and he was pretty sure his prosthetic knee had impacted pretty hard on her thigh. For a moment they both cringed in the floor as the heavy thuds of bullets impacted on the now closed door. Junkrat half pushed himself upright, registering the halls drenched in red from the alarms and the blare of sirens, and the very irritated Hindi words from the woman beneath him.

“Fuck.” He said, stretching slightly and trying to look over his shoulder at the place where he’d felt the bullet impact.

“Are you hurt?” Symmetra was sitting up now, a slightly concerned look on her face. “My photon shield-”

Ahh, right. There was only one person who could have made that little blue shield.

“Nah, I’m good.” Junkrat, rolled his shoulder blades. The place where the bullet had hit him was sore and aching, but it hadn’t penetrated flesh and muscle. “Saved me hide openin’ that door but.”

“I heard the shots on my way to the lab.” Symmetra gathered herself up, brushing her hair back. “I saw that you were not going to make it in time. You’re sure you are not injured?”

“They got me, the bastards, but ya shield fixed things.” At that moment, Junkrat caught sight of his prosthetic hand; it had taken a bullet through the casing of his palm, destroying the connections for his pinkie, ring and middle finger. “Ah, fuck me.” He groaned, lifting his hand to examine it closer. “They’ve gone an' shot me bloody hand.”

Symmetra actually looked sympathetic as she traced her good hand over her own prosthetic. “You can fix it later. Hurry, we must find the others.”

“Er, roight. Y'got yer comm? Mine’s in me room.”

She nodded. “I called it in when I saw you getting shot at.”

At that moment, Tracer and McCree came charging round the corner.

“What’s goin’ on?” McCree blustered, peacekeeper in hand. “Do w’know who they are?”

“Talon.” Junkrat clambered to his feet, nursing his injured prosthetic. “Attacked me when I was out testing me mines.” He reached out his good hand to Symmetra, who hesitated a moment, but then she stood up herself, avoiding his touch. He let his hand drop back to his side, and then awkwardly grabbed his damaged prosthetic again.

McCree scowled and crept to the window; the drone had gone, but they could hear gunfire in another part of the base.

“You 'urt?” Asked Tracer, and Junkrat shook his head.

“Nah, but me hand’s taken a beatin’.” He attempted to move his fingers, but the damaged mechanism was frozen.

“Yikes. All right, McCree, let’s get a move on.” Tracer zipped off down the hall in a flash of blue, and McCree hurried after her, angry sounding southern idioms slipping from his lips as he yelled at her to slow down and wait for him.

“Come.” Symmetra said. “We must move. It may not be safe in the outer corridor.”

“That’s true.” Junkrat loped alongside her as she ran lightly through the halls, following her lead as they moved deeper into the base. From somewhere outside the muffled noise of a large explosion rolled through the corridors, and Junkrat swore. That hadn’t been a small blast.

Beside him, Symmetra muttered something in another language, and then she switched to English. “I don’t have my weapon with me. What do you have, in case we run into trouble?”

“Me frag launcher's in me room.” Junkrat scowled at the thought. “Got a few grenades though.”

“Gods, _please_ don’t set them off in here.”

He laughed, a bark of humour that bounced off the walls. “Y'think I’m roight stupid, don’t-”

“Hold that thought.”

Symmetra skidded to a stop, and Junkrat did too as she pressed a hand to her ear and listened to what was being said on the comm.

“Symmetra here.” She said curtly, obviously replying to someone. “Yes, Junkrat is with me. He doesn’t have his comm.” She listened for another moment and then nodded. “Understood.” Looking up at him, she motioned. “Come on. Winston says that two drones have been dealt with and they’re trying to find the others. As of this very second, we don’t _seem_ to be under any immediate attack.”

“Well that’s somethin’.” Junkrat cradled his ruined arm against his chest as they set off again. “Where to now?”

“Winston’s lab.” Symmetra turned to look at him. “How damaged is your arm?”

“I gotta take it off for repairs. Don’t think I’ll be much use if the fight comes back.”

She grimaced. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Lucky it wasn’t you. Yer arm looks fancier than mine.” Junkrat had mostly been kidding, but real horror flashed across her face.

“You’re not wrong; I would need surgery to detach mine.”

He stared. “Wait, what?”

The corner of Symmetra’s lips turned up and he could see the ghost of amusement on her face. “My prosthetic is surgically attached at the shoulder. I can’t take it off.”

His jaw hung open – he certainly hadn’t considered that option.

“Well, fuck.” Junkrat nodded back at her. “Guess y'are lucky.”

The doors to Winston’s lab hissed open, and they drew to a stop inside. Junkrat turned to examine his hand again as Winston looked up.

“Symmetra, Junkrat. Are either of you hurt?”

“Just me fuckin’ hand.” Junkrat complained, and then Mercy was on him like flies to honey.

“What? You’re hurt?” She asked, concern clear in her tone, and Junkrat lifted his damaged prosthetic as Symmetra slunk off to the side.

“Just me arm. Bastards shot me.”

“But no injuries to the rest of you?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

Mercy drew back. “That’s a relief.”

The door opened again and Roadhog moved into the room as Mercy flitted towards Symmetra, no doubt to ask her similar questions, and Junkrat hopped towards his best mate.

“Oi Hog! Lookit me hand!” Junkrat held up his prosthetic, the broken fingers flopping pathetically, and then to add insult to injury, a small inner mechanism snapped off all together. Seething, he scooped up the part and shoved it into his pocket. “Fuckin’ hell, it’s gonna be a pain to repair this.”

Lúcio and D.Va came in next, and Junkrat was briefly distracted by the sight of Lúcio scowling in Symmetra’s direction, and then snickered as the Brazilian deliberately stood as far away from her as possible. While she _was_ a suit, he found Lúcio’s distaste for her amusing; ever since their blue when they first met, they'd both gone out of their way to avoid the other. That didn't mean they didn't glare at each other from across the room, though. In all honesty, Junkrat didn't really get it - sure, Vishkar were suits and they'd done shitty things, but though  _Symmetra_ tried hard to be intimidating, but anyone could tell she was all bark and no bite. He’d been wary of her for like, a week, and while she was pretty scary in training, he’d quickly realised her peculiar code of conduct meant that she was harmless. To the Overwatch team, anyway.

Roadhog exhaled slowly, and Junkrat soon learned that he’d destroyed one of the drones, bringing it down when it attacked him in the hanger, which had caused the explosion they’d heard. Slowly, the rest of the agents began to trickle in, and Athena was constantly running updates in the background. Junkrat tuned them all out as he sat on the floor, pocket screwdriver in hand as he fiddled with his prosthetic, hoping it wouldn’t be _too_ complex of a repair.

When all the agents had arrived, Winston began a debriefing and Roadhog confiscated his screwdriver, so Junkrat had no choice but to sit and listen, though his fingers danced anxiously over the metal joints of his hand. It was not a very comfortable feeling, not being able to move his fingers.

“Athena, status report.” Winston growled out, and Junkrat paused his fidgeting in order to listen.

“Affirmative. The base is on lockdown. Currently, I am detecting no intruders on my scanners. All defence bots and turrets remain primed for action. Security drones are sweeping the perimeter now. There is minor structural damage to one wall in the hangar.”

“The _'anger?”_ Tracer leapt to her feet. “My fighter!”

“According to my data, the explosion occurred at the opposite end of the hangar.” Athena’s screen blinked, bringing up the security feed overlooking Tracer’s precious aircraft. “Your craft appears to be unharmed.”

“Whew! That’s lucky.” Tracer sat down, but as Junkrat watched her, he could see her lips turned down in worry. He knew that just as he was itching to get to the workshop, she was dying to check her plane.

“So what were they after?” Drawled McCree as he chewed on a cigarillo, and Junkrat drummed his fingers on his thighs, antsy and impatient to get back to work on his arm.

“My report is inconclusive.” Droned Athena, the AI’s robotic voice flickering slightly. “It appears Talon’s drones were shooting to kill, but had no serious plan to enter the compound.”

“Strange.” Winston leaned back in his chair. “Any patterns?”

Athena flashed several stills from the security feeds on the screen. “Four drones approached from the south and began to circle the base. The first fired upon agent Junkrat, that only agent outside, and when unable to eliminate him joined the others in circling and firing. One was destroyed by agent Roadhog in the hangar, and another by agents D.Va and Lúcio at the launch facility. The other two drones were observed making a retreat.”

Junkrat leaned forwards. “Wait. Do ya mean ta say I only got shot because I was outside?” He waved his prosthetic in the air, fingers flapping uselessly. “Of all the shitty fuckin' luck-”

“If my calculations are correct, then yes.” Athena’s voice droned. “I would advise all agents to remain armed and vigilant when outside the base in the future.”

“Oh, I’ll be _armed_ all roight.” Junkrat muttered under his breath, scowling.

“Well, it appears Talon knows for certain that Overwatch has reformed. They’re probably testing the waters to see how prepared we are.” Winston frowned heavily as he gazed towards the AI screens.

“It would not be a bad idea to add extra defences to the base.” Athena’s voice hummed. “Talon might return.”

“That’s certainly a possibility.” Winston took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses while Junkrat gently manipulated the damaged fingers of his metal hand, getting a feel for what parts were busted. “Up the defences and security drones. I don’t want any blind spots, Athena.”

The debriefing wrapped up shortly afterwards, and after an assurance from Winston that whatever he would need to mend his arm would be made available, Junkrat and Roadhog departed for the workshop.

Once there, Junkrat removed his arm, scowling heavily and complaining to Roadhog the whole time as he removed his prosthetic and then strapped it down into a vice and started poking about with his one good hand. It wasn’t long before he’d examined the breakage completely – the bullet had passed clean through the right side of his palm, shattering the delicate mechanics that operated his last three fingers.

Now swearing a blue streak because he only had one hand to use, Junkrat set to work carefully removing the portions that were broken, and soon had a small pile on the bench, which he swore at some more. It was going to be a bitch replacing those tiny pieces.

“How go the repairs?”

Junkrat looked up to find Torbjörn framed in the doorway. The short Swedish man stumped over to have a look at his prosthetic, a sympathetic whistle sliding through his teeth.

“Eh, alright.” Junkrat said, jiggling a loose finger slightly. “I just gotta replicate these broken pieces.”

Torbjörn nodded. “If you like, you can have the use of my forge.” He offered, and Junkrat grinned.

“Cheers, mate.”

“Of course, if the Vishkar girl was here-” Torbjörn continued, obviously completely unaware that Symmetra had appeared in the doorway and was frowning at him. “She’d no doubt zap it all from nothing.” He snorted. “The death of hard work, she is.”

“You may say what you like, Torbjörn.” Symmetra said icily, her accent imperious as she made her way into the workshop, making the engineer jump. “But you cannot deny that hard-light is free of all flaws, and therefore _superior_.”

“Hard-light lacks personality.” Argued the Swedish man. “There is no tradition!”

“Sometimes tradition must be sacrificed for the greater good.” Symmetra said curtly. “The Omnic Crisis made sure of that.”

Junkrat’s lip curled involuntarily at the mention of the robot uprising, but Torbjörn looked even more offended at her insinuation.

“So, ye just going to zap up a few parts for him? Eradicate good hard work?”

She lifted her chin with the challenge. “I can if it is so desired.”

“Feh, so _arrogant_. Your creations are cold, like your heart.” Torbjörn spat, and Junkrat grinned as fire flashed in Symmetra’s eyes.

“Well, as long as we are trading childish insults, I may say that _yours_ are positively antiquated. _Medieval_ , in fact.”

“ _Antiqua_ -” Torbjörn swelled in indignation beneath his beard. “Come now, Junkrat. Tell her no and we’ll fire up the forge, eh?”

Junkrat deliberated. On the one hand (heh, one hand), he was usually pretty serious about being the only one to work on his prosthetics. On the other, it might take days to complete by creating moulds and forging new parts. Whereas Symmetra could probably get the job done in thirty seconds. He could remain armless for days, or an hour, tops. The choice was actually quite easy to make.

“Eh, sorry mate.” He said to Torbjörn. “I’m gonna go with Symmetra. I want me arm back sooner rather than later.”

Torbjörn looked rather taken aback, and then he scoffed and departed, muttering Swedish things under his breath as Symmetra looked triumphant.

“Y'sure argue with him a lot.” He noted with raised brows, exchanging a look with Roadhog. Symmetra rolled her eyes.

“I try not to.” She muttered, and then stepped forwards. “All right. What have I gotten myself into?”

He snickered. “Don’t wanna help, s’that it? Just said that ta save face?” Symmetra frowned, and he sniggered. “Ooh, ya _don’t_ , do ya?”

Her frown grew even more severe. “I am sure that an ‘expert’ such as yourself would have been capable of handling things.”

Junkrat ran his tongue over his teeth as he leaned forwards; Symmetra shifted back to maintain the distance between them. “Oh, yeah I coulda. The point is but, wouldn’t ya do somethin’ ta help out ya best mate?” He fluttered his lashes at her as best he could.

Symmetra raised a brow, a faint undertone of derision underlying her expression. “We are not friends.”

“ _Oooh_.” Junkrat cackled and laid his hand dramatically over his heart. “Ya _wound_ me, ‘Metra. Here I thought we was _best mates_.”

She did nothing but raise a perfectly groomed brow a scant few millimetres higher, and Junkrat sighed, turning to look at Roadhog.

“I don’t reckon she goes in for sarcasm much.” He commented, and Roadhog grunted out a laugh.

“No, I don’t.” Symmetra had folded her arms, the fingers over her good hand smoothing over the metal of her prosthetic in a minute yet almost involuntary movement. “I prefer to keep things serious.”

“Like I couldn’t tell.” He muttered under his breath. “So ya won’t help? Do I gotta go track down Torbjörn and tell ‘im I need the forge after all? I’ll look like a roight dickhead.”

Symmetra pursed her lips for a moment, but then shook her head. “No, I will help you. I already gave my word.”

“Roight, c’mon then.” Junkrat beckoned her closer and then began laying out the broken shards, wanting to get a move on before she changed her mind. “These are the bits I need…”

They spent the better part of an hour working on his arm, him sketching out what the more mangled bits were supposed to look like, and Symmetra drawing those pieces out of thin air, the delicate blue light becoming solid right before his eyes. He nudged Roadhog every time she made a piece.

In fact… Junkrat rather got the impression she was enjoying his obvious awe at her hard-light. With every new tiny piece she crafted and every time he marvelled over her tech, a smile threatened to turn the corners of her lips up. He found himself watching her mouth more and more, waiting for that elusive smile to show itself.

Much to Symmetra’s disgust, he painted the flawless white metal bright orange (she said he was tainting everything she stood for), which gave him and Roadhog a good chuckle. When all the bits and bobs were formed and painted, Symmetra went back over to her workbench to fiddle around with her own schematics while he carefully put his arm back together.

At long last, nearly four hours since he began work on his arm, he was done. Junkrat held his breath as he strapped the prosthetic into place, doing all he needed to do to make it work and then… he gave and experiment squeeze, and the fingers opened. He whooped in sheer joy, making Symmetra start and Roadhog snicker.

“Lookit me now, Roadie!” He cackled, waving his metal hand in his mate’s face. “Good as new, I reckon!”

Roadhog agreed, and Junkrat went skidding across the room to wave his metal arm under Symmetra’s nose. She recoiled and he pulled back slightly. “Roight, sorry. Whaddaya think?”

Symmetra gazed at his hand as he flexed his newly mended fingertips. “May I?” She asked, and he paused for a second, and then nodded. She took his hand in both of hers, gently turning his palm over and tracing the mended parts, where the hard-light components gleamed a bright orange against the duller, time worn paint of the original. Junkrat swallowed tightly, his throat constricting; it’d been a long while – never, really – since a woman had touched him quite like this, even if it was his prosthetic and he couldn’t _feel_ it. Her hold was so _tender_ , her expression serious as white metal and soft skin traced over the orange joints, that tiny furrow back between her brows.

“I am pleased my constructs have aided you.” She said as she gave him back his hand, her calm words proving she had no clue what he was feeling as he watched her, eyes wide. “It will be a long time before they wear out.”

“Eh, uh… yeah.” He managed. “Um, thanks.”

“You are quite skilled.” She murmured, her hair falling over her shoulder and framing her face. Junkrat found himself watching her movement as she pushed the black silk back behind her shoulder. “I was under the impression that your forte was explosions, but it seems you have a wider range of skills than I thought.”

“Um, thanks, ‘Metra, uhhhh…” He couldn’t seem to find his words.

Symmetra looked at him oddly. “Are you quite well, Junkrat?”

“What? Yeah, I’m good – I’m fine.” He dragged his free hand through his hair, feeling incredibly flustered. Symmetra tilted her head, her lips parting as she watched him, and fuck if that only made it worse.

“You are very red.” She observed. “Are you coming down with a fever?”

Fuck, she wasn’t _that_ oblivious, was she? Junkrat stammered out something (he barely even knew what) and made his escape back over to his bench, where Roadhog laughed at him.

“Shut – shut the fuck up.” Junkrat bit out, glowering as he collapsed in his chair.

He looked up at the sound of heels clicking on the floor, and watched as Symmetra left the workshop with a sheaf of paper in her hands. Junkrat licked dry lips as he watched the motion of her body as she walked, and when he couldn’t see her anymore he sagged in his chair.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'd like to have a bit of Satya's native language in this fic - she might slip into it occasionally in certain situations - but I don't speak Telugu or Hindi, so if any of the (admittedly limited) non-English languages that will be in this fic are wrong, please blame google translate~


	8. Milo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat tries to make conversation with Symmetra - it doesn't really go as planned.

Satya relaxed in the rich Spanish sunlight, a book open in her lap. Since the attack on the base by Talon drones a week ago, there hadn’t been any more attempts to breach the perimeters. The base had eased out of lockdown, but they were all still rather wary. It was for this reason that despite being outside to relax in the sun, Satya had her weapons with her, her photon projector resting by her side, and she’d set up turrets around her immediate perimeter.

The sun was warm where she sat curled into a corner away from prying eyes – she’d deliberately chosen a spot that she couldn’t be seen from unless anyone who walked past turned their heads to the right. McCree had already passed by sometime ago, chatting with Mercy, and Satya had remained still and quiet, valuing her privacy and alone time too much to call out.

When Junkrat emerged from the base, however, it seemed she had no such luck. He ambled out the doors and started making his way towards the testing range, his prosthetic leg clunking on the ground with each step. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, as he was wont to do often, and in that half turn position his eyes met hers.

“‘Metra!” He said, sounding surprised as he turned to face her properly. “Whaddaya doin’ out here?”

“Reading.” She said shortly, holding up her book in the hope he’d take the hint and leave. When Junkrat ambled towards her she sighed and curled in on herself as he collapsed messily in a heap beside her. Couldn’t he do anything with the slightest amount of grace?

“Glad I found ya, ‘Metra.” He began, rubbing at his chin, and she frowned.

“You have been looking for me?” _What on earth for?_

“I wanted to thank ya. Never really got the chance after, an' I haven’t seen ya in a few.” Junkrat leaned back against the wall and grinned at her, the sunlight shining off a golden tooth. “For helpin’ fix me arm.”

“Oh. You are welcome.” That was a _week_ ago. Why was it still on his mind? Satya turned back to her book, wondering how long it’d take for him to leave if she ignored him.

“Nah, I really ‘priciate it though.” He cracked the knuckles on his good hand, then examined his prosthetic. “She’s working perfect now.”

Satya felt a small glimmer of pride, distracting her from her irritation; anyone must see the perfection of hard light technology.

“I told you hard light is without flaw.” She said, and Junkrat laughed.

“Yeah, I guess ya did. Want some milo?”

The question was so very out of place she nearly started. “Some – _what?”_

“Milo.” Junkrat reached into the raggedy satchel he carried at his hip and pulled out a tin, before he waggled his brows at her. “Want some?”

Satya eyed the green tin in his hand and raised a brow. “What on earth is it?”

“It’s a drink. Ya put it in milk, an' it’s bloody fantastic.”

“But… what is it?”

Junkrat turned the tin in his hand so she could read it. “It’s chocolate malt, an' its real good. Try some.”

Satya eyed him doubtfully, and he chuckled and pulled out two dinted enamel mugs from his pack, and then – surprisingly – a whole bottle of milk.

“Where did you get that milk from?” She asked with a frown – he’d probably had it in his bags for weeks. It was probably spoiled, or worse.

“I flogged it from the kitchen just now.” Junkrat said easily. “Was takin’ it back to drink in the workshop.”

 _Well, at least it was fresh._ “I really don’t think-”

“Ah, c’mon, lemme say thanks for helpin’ with me arm.” Junkrat waggled his brows at her, a broad grin on his face.

Satya raised a brow at him, trying to word it in a way that would seem polite and yet leave no doubt that she wanted him to leave. “Junkrat, I appreciate-”

“That’s a yes then.” He shoved the dinted mug into her hand and popped the lid off the milo tin before she could finish her sentence, and then started dumping milo into her cup.

Satya frowned at his overbearingness and warily sniffed it – it had a chocolaty smell. “Has this mug been washed recently?” She asked, inspecting it carefully. If this is how he wanted to say thank you, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to stay here a moment longer. Just a very _small_ and _short_ moment.

“Course, milo tastes rubbish if you leave the crusty stuff round the edge.” Junkrat had finished loading up his own mug and then grabbed the milk, filling both their mugs. To her surprise, Junkrat immediately started eating the milo that had gathered at the top of his cup.

“Why are you _eating_ it?” She asked. “Are you supposed to?”

Junkrat laughed and snorted, spraying milo out of his mouth. Satya frowned and drew her legs closer to her to avoid the mess.

“Ya can if ya want.” He snickered and tossed her a spoon with rust spots on it. “Tastes good.”

“This spoon is rusty.” Satya frowned at it. “What have you been doing with it?”

Junkrat shrugged and stretched, his body lengthening as he leaned back, and her gaze was drawn to his lean form. His body looked terribly skinny from afar, but close up she was forced to admit that he did possess a wiry strength. She found her gaze drawn to his shoulders, tracing the freckles there, and then Satya blinked and made herself look away. Just because the man refused to wear a shirt did not mean she could let go of her principles.

“It’s been with me a while.” He said in answer. “Years an' years.”

Satya frowned harder. “Thank you, but I’ll use my own.” She passed the spoon back and conjured her own, the hard light winking in the sun.

Taking a cautious spoonful of the milo, Satya put it in her mouth and immediately coughed on the dry powder. Junkrat started cackling as he slapped his thigh.

“Ya gotta mix it first, ‘Metra. Git it all wet and _then_ eat it.”

 _Why am I doing this?_ Satya began to stir the powder carefully, and then confusion and curiosity got the better of her.

“What are you doing here, Junkrat?”

He raised a brow at her. “Drinkin’ milo.”

“No, I mean – why are you sitting here? You could have thanked me and left it at that.”

Junkrat pursed his lips. “Well, yeah, but it’s called hospitality, love. We're just having' a yarn, can't complain too much, can ya?”

Symmetra frowned over her milo. “A _yarn?_ What on earth are you talking about?”

“Like... a chat, ‘Metra.” Junkrat grinned at her, gold tooth flashing. “We’ll soon get ya up to speed on all the shit I come out with.”

She raised a brow. “Will you indeed.”

He nodded, looking rather pleased with himself, but then he frowned at her cup. “Ya haven’t drunk yer milo yet.”

“Well, no, I-”

Junkrat didn’t let her finish as he leaned over, invading her personal space, and Satya flinched backwards. She hadn’t expected him to suddenly touch her, but she still cursed herself for the reaction, especially when Junkrat paused, brows snapping together.

“Are ya alright?” He asked with a frown. “Yer very _jumpy_. I ain’t gonna bite ya.”

“I’m fine.” Satya said stiffly. “I just… would prefer some more space, please.”

Junkrat paused and thought for a moment, then pulled back. “Roight.” There was question lurking in his tone. “Uh... whadaya mean?”

Satya frowned, tracing the rim of her mug with an anxious finger. She didn’t like the thought, but maybe… it’d get Junkrat to ease up on all his alarming mannerisms. “You were invading my personal space.” She said quietly, mechanically, trying to get the words out quickly.

“Roight.” Junkrat rubbed his chin and cracked his jaw. “Duly noted.”

“Thank you.” She said in relief. “I thought you might find it… foolish.” A second later and she silently cursed herself for continuing the conversation; she ought to have left it at that.

“Nah.” Junkrat leaned back against the wall and slurped on his milo. “I know a couple a fellas like that, they-” he froze then, and looked towards her with a curious sort of… suspicious _anger_ on his face. “Nobody _touched_ ya, did they? Back in Junkertown there’s this sheila, got beaten pretty badly by her ex. Been real jumpy ever since.”

Junkrat looked so outraged and offended on her behalf Satya almost smiled as she hastened to assure him that she hadn’t. “No, that’s not it.” She said quickly. “It’s just… a quirk, you might say.”

He relaxed then. “Well, that’s somethin’. Junkrat pointed his milo at her. “So yer like old mate Wacko.”

Satya frowned at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Wacko. Wacko’s this stroppy old coot what’s lived in the Outback since before the omnics fucked everythin’ up. Set his arse up in Junkertown and never left. Used ta walk with this cane, an’ if yer touched him, even on accident, he’d wallop ya across the fuckin’ noggin with it. Never had a proper reason, just didn’t like it an’ never did.”

Satya raised her brow. Maybe Junkrat would be respectful about it after all. “He would hit you? That seems a little extreme.”

Junkrat sniggered into his milo, and Satya sipped at hers cautiously. The chocolaty taste was sweet and she had to admit, was not unpleasant.

“Yep, he was an antisocial old bastard.” Junkrat waved his prosthetic in the air then. “But he did help me replace me hand when I lost it.”

“Indeed?” Satya nodded. “So he can’t have been all that bad.”

That made Junkrat laugh wildly. “Nah, he was a cranky old bastard, but as long as ya didn’t get in his space, he’d tell ya things.” He turned contemplative then. “Used ta tell us all ‘bout what the country was like before the omnics.”

“I see.” Satya sipped at her drink, wondering if now was an appropriate time to make her getaway.

“But I ‘spose we can’t change history.” Junkrat heaped more milo into his cup and stirred it. “I do like ya little hard light thingo’s though.” He said, very abtuptly changing the subject. “Everythin’ feels real smooth inside.”

“That’s because hard light is superior to anything else.” Satya was immensely relieved to be back on a comfortable topic. “Though I don’t understand why you would not choose to upgrade entirely.”

Junkrat gave her an odd look. “Why would I upgrade?”

“Why wouldn’t you? You could get a vastly superior model, one with more features, if you wanted.”

He frowned before replying. “Nah, I’m good.”

So eager to prove to him how useful and innovative hard-light was, Satya didn’t realise how uncomfortable his tone was. “But why?” She leaned forwards. “Surely you can see that hard light is of a higher quality that any man-made technology, it-”

Junkrat stood up very abruptly then. “Nah thanks.” He said, sounding somewhat agitated, and then he tipped out his drink, scooped his milo tin into his satchel, and strode off down the path back inside the base, without looking back. Satya watched him go in confusion. Had she… said something to offend him? Impossible – hard light was superior, in every single way. It was clean, modern and refined, it was produced with barely any labour, limited costs and caused no pollution or waste products… Junkrat could upgrade both his prosthetics and vastly improve his ability to walk, to fight, to create… she didn’t understand him at _all_.


	9. Charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat's first mission~

Junkrat absentmindedly drummed his fingers on his frag launcher as their airship zipped through the clouds. On a wall-mounted screen, Winston was relaying final instructions to them – get to the Talon facility, take out the enemy operatives, and destroy any rogue Omnics that may or may not be floating around. Apparently, this was both an offensive mission and a reconnaissance one – they had to determine whether or not the rumours of Talon having anything to do with the Omnic crisis re-emerging in Russia had any truth to them. Either way, it was Junkrat and Roadhog's first official mission with Overwatch, and he was keen as mustard.

That being said, Junkrat didn’t particularly care about the finer details of the mission – he was here to blow shit up, and that’s what he planned to do. Roadhog sat next to him, checking the links of his hook-chain, and Junkrat absently cast his gaze over the rest of the team as he jiggled his foot restlessly.

Hanzo and Genji sat beside one another, conversing softly, while McCree snored softly next to them – the cowboy had the enviable ability to sleep anytime, anywhere. Mercy and Reinhardt were chatting while Symmetra spun delicate blue shapes in the air, the light flickering over her serious face. Tracer was up front piloting the craft, and Mei was keeping her company in the cockpit while D.Va and Lúcio gabbled away about some sort of game she was playing.

His gaze crept back to Symmetra; they hadn’t spoken, not one word, since he’d offered her Milo as thanks for helping fix his arm the other day, but then she’d made it weird by saying he ought to ‘upgrade’. Junkrat ran the fingers of his good hand over his prosthetic with a frown; he did not like the thought of ‘upgrading’. His arm and leg might be metal, but they were now just as much a part of him as his real limbs. Nothing short of total annihilation would make him replace them. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what  _she_  thought of it; that he was off his rocker for not wanting fancy Vishkar tech for arms and hands, most like.

She crossed her legs then, which caught his attention. Junkrat hadn’t consciously thought about it, but when he’d seen her for the first time he very abruptly realised he’d expected her outfit to be along similar lines to what she normally wore; prim, proper, and severe. When Symmetra had come downstairs for the mission wearing a slitted skirt and gold trimmed thigh highs that revealed her legs to the hip, he hadn’t been the only one with wide eyes. He knew for a fact that Lúcio had declared it a crime that it just _had_ to be the _Vishkar_ chick that had such great legs.

He’d also overheard Symmetra rather defensively explaining to Mei that the skirt was for ease of movement, which technically made sense, but Junkrat was almost positive her plan was to stun the Talon agents with her legs before taking them out.

“Oi, Hog.” Junkrat leaned towards Roadhog. “How long did they reckon it’d take to get there?”

“Two hours.”

“Roight.” Junkrat pulled out a flash-bang and started fiddling with it, perfectly aware that Mercy was eying him suspiciously.

“I hope that’s not a  _real_  explosive.” Mercy said with a frown.

“What, this?” Junkrat laughed and tossed the flash-bang in the air, catching it with a deft flick of the wrist. “Nah, this won’t hurt’cha if it goes off.” He paused. “Might blind ya for a bit though.”

Mercy raised a brow while everyone else stared. “Do you think you could possibly put that away until we land?”

He sniggered and tossed it in the air again. “‘S’almost like ya don’t  _trust_  me.”

There was a lengthy silence, and Junkrat laughed to himself as he continued tossing the flash-bang from hand to hand, and the ship flew onwards.

 

* * *

 

They landed just over an hour later, and Junkrat was on his feet in a heartbeat, eager to get out of the cramped aircraft. Tracer had landed them all in a clearing some distance away from the target for stealth purposes, with dense forestation all around them. To be perfectly honest, Junkrat didn’t even have the slightest clue what country they were in. He supposed it was somewhere in Europe, but he was guessing at this point. He’d tuned that out during the briefing – he was here to blow the bad guys to smithereens, not a actually pay attention.

“Right, gather round everyone.” boomed Reinhardt in his inside voice, which wasn’t a whole lot quieter than his normal voice. “Ze Talon facility is two kilometres away, so we had better get hiking! Hana, you and I’ll be on offense. Jesse and Genji, I want you two following in, and Hanzo, you’re our sniper. Take ze rooftops.”

“What’s our cover?” drawled McCree, inspecting his gun as he did so. “Gonna make us dash outta the trees headlong into gunfire?”

Reinhardt paused. “Ze situations aren’t ideal.” He said, his face darkening. “We’ll have to make use of what we’ve got, which is my shield. Not really ideal for a flanked attack, but it’ll have to do.”

Junkrat was in the process of checking one of his detonators when he spotted Symmetra looking around as if to check no one else had a better idea.

“I will go with you. I can create personal shields for you all.” She said, a steely tone to her accented words, and Reinhardt made a German noise of glee.

“Excellent! Symmetra, stick with Hana for ze first assault.” The knight looked around. “Does zat sound good to everyone?”

There was a round of nodding, so Reinhardt moved on. “Okay. Junkrat, Roadhog, you’re on distraction duty.” Reinhardt paused slightly. “Blow up as much as you like, but try not to bring ze whole compound down on our heads.”

Junkrat sniggered. “Copy.”

“Lena, you’re going to zip in and hunt for anything incriminating while Talon is distracted, preferably  _before_  Junkrat gets there.” Mercy continued the briefing smoothly. “Mei, Lúcio, we’ll be bringing up the rear.”

“Got it!” chirped Mei brightly, and Lúcio grinned ecstatically.

“Is everyone clear?” Reinhardt boomed, and when he got his agreements, he nodded. “Then suit up and roll out.”

Junkrat and Roadhog jogged into the woods, circling out a bit so they’d come in on the Talon headquarters a bit wide – Reinhardt, Genji, McCree and Hanzo had also departed immediately, while Mercy and her small group lagged behind slightly. Tracer zipped off in a bright flash of blue, and then D.Va’s MEKA powered on and she thundered off through the bush to catch up with the main offense.

Junkrat snickered as he loped through the woods alongside Roadhog; they both did their best to be quiet, having had this drilled into them by Winston before they’d left. It was a bit of a slog, but eventually they came out on the Talon compound. Junkrat hefted his frag launcher higher and grabbed a grenade, but he was barely two steps out from the tree line when Roadhog grabbed the back of his harness and hoisted him back into the trees.

“Wait.” Roadhog rumbled, and Junkrat grumbled to himself, annoyed.  _Where_  were Reinhardt and the others? He wanted to get a move on.

Fortunately for him, Reinhardt and D.Va burst out of the trees, closely shadowed by Genji and McCree. Gunfire immediately peppered the ground at their feet, but the swathes of blue surrounding them caused the bullets to bounce harmlessly away. Junkrat looked up to see Symmetra perched up on the back of D.Va’s MEKA, light flaring from her hands as she shielded them from Talon.

At that moment, Roadhog let go of his harness.

“Let’s go.”

Junkrat whooped in joy and they charged forwards, towards the side of the building. The Talon compound was a collection of dull cement buildings surrounded by a tall concrete wall that had Talon agents strutting along the top of it, but Junkrat knew _exactly_  how to bypass that. Together, he and Roadhog made a beeline for the wall, stopping just below it. They’d circled around, and because of the excellent distraction Reinhardt and his group were creating, the Talon agents who’d been guarding the perimeter weren’t paying attention. Junkrat pulled out two concussion mines, laying them flat, before he climbed on board one and Roadhog the other, and then he pressed the detonator.

With a loud blast, they were both flung into the air and came to rest on the top of the wall, face to face with a Talon agent.

“G’day mate!” he crowed as he blasted the startled watchman in the chest with his frag launcher, and then he and Roadhog quickly jumped down to the ground.

Ripping a grenade from his harness, Junkrat hurled it in through a window and then cackled at the screams of the Talon agents inside as the explosion rocked outwards. Loping forwards, he caught up to Roadhog just as he blasted a Talon agent in the face with his scrap gun; the two of them stepped over the fallen corpse, rounding the corner to see Reinhardt battering away at several Talon operatives while Mercy zipped past, locked onto her target. Just up ahead, he could see McCree hot in pursuit of two Talon agents, while the sound of shattering ice echoed around the corner. 

As the battle raged, Junkrat found himself having the time of his life. He’d blown up enough Talon operatives that he’d since lost count, and destroyed an entire building.

Long story short, he was having  _fun_.

The commlink in his ear buzzed, and then he heard Reinhardt’s booming tone.

“Zey seem to be defending ze central buildings!” the knight roared, making Junkrat wince from the volume. “McCree! Where are you?”

“I’m ‘ere.” McCree’s drawling tone crackled in his ear as Junkrat bounded around a corner and spied a Talon agent firing at Genji. He was just aiming his frag launcher when an arrow pierced the black helmet of the terrorist, and he looked up to see Hanzo running full tilt across the roof, firing arrows as he went. Bullets whizzed over his shoulder and Junkrat threw himself sideways, blasting at the Talon agents with his frag launcher as he ducked around a corner and plastered himself to the wall.

“Fuck.” he muttered, sweeping a hand through his hair and then reloading his launcher. Somewhere beyond, he could hear Lúcio’s music blasting as the D.J skated madly around the compound.

Listening to the conversations going on over the comm, Junkrat scooted around the back of the building, looking over his shoulder as he wondered where Roadhog was. As he rounded the corner, however, he crashed right into a blur of black and teal, who yelled something in Hindi and threw out her hands, causing a bright blue shield to encompass them just as bullets slammed into it.

“Fuck!” Junkrat grabbed a grenade as Symmetra hustled him back around the corner. “Drop ya shield!” He barked, and the second she did he leaned around the corner and threw the grenade. Symmetra grabbed the back of his harness and almost pulled him off his feet as she tugged him backwards, and then she wove light with her hands and they were inside a bright blue bubble, the sound of the explosion washing over them.

“Bloody handy, those things are.” Junkrat motioned at her shield, and Symmetra nodded, panting slightly. He noted that she had blood splattered over her side and her slitted skirt was ripped, revealing more of her excellent thighs, but she didn’t  _seem_ hurt.

“Yes, they are helpful.” Symmetra shoved her hair back over her shoulder and straightened her visor. “Where are the others?”

“Reinhardt said somethin’ ‘bout making an attack on the centre buildin’s.” Junkrat took the safety presented by Symmetra’s shield to hastily reload his frag launcher.

“Of course,” she murmured, pressing a hand to her comm.

 “Ya hurt at all?”

“No, I am unhurt. Are you?” Symmetra swept her cool yet concerned gaze over his form. “You are covered in blood.”

“Got a bit close to a bloke with a face full of grenade,” Junkrat said breezily, wiping a hand across his forehead and noting that he was, in fact, rather sticky with blood and other assorted bits. “But I’m good.”

“Good.” Symmetra flashed him a slight smile, a mere curve of her lips. “Are you ready? I laid a teleporter earlier; I will open the path.”

She lowered the shield and in what felt like the same moment had woven a teleporter straight out of the air.

“Come on!”

Junkrat threw himself into the teleporter after Symmetra, and once the peculiar sensation of having his very molecules dissolved and reformed had passed and he had come out the other side, he immediately threw himself into a crouch beside Symmetra as she pulled up a shield around them.

“What’s your plan?” She hissed in his ear, and Junkrat shifted slightly, tracking the movement of the battle carefully.

“I’m gonna head left,” he hissed back. “Towards those blokes Mercy’s facing off with.”

Symmetra nodded. “I will aid Genji.” She said, tone business like. “Here.”

She wove more blue light out of the air and flicked it at him; the light hit his sternum and flowed over his entire form.

“You will be shielded for one minute. Use it wisely!” Symmetra called, already up and sprinting away. Junkrat threw himself to his feet and took off towards in the direction he’d indicated, roasting a Talon agent as Roadhog barrelled around the corner, a Talon agent in his sights.

Junkrat let out a whoop at the sight, and then bullets thudded into the ground; he threw himself forwards into a roll to avoid being hit while he ducked around a corner. Spotting the Talon agents on the roof trying to snipe them, Junkrat whipped a concussion mine from his pack and jumped on it.

Letting out a yell as it exploded beneath him, Junkrat found himself launched bodily into the air; the wind whistled through his hair as he angled his body, aiming for the roof even as he fired his frag launcher in the vague direction of the Talon agents. He landed on the roof just as the wave of smoke, heat and sound from the explosion rolled over him, making his eyebrows sizzle, and then he cackled at the sight of the Talon corpses lying scorched on the roof.

“Time for some explorin’!” he cackled to himself with a crazed grin, and then Junkrat grabbed a cherry bomb from his harness and hurled it at the roof, blasting a smallish hole in the ceiling. Dropping down through the brand spankin’ new skylight, Junkrat inspected the room, humming along to the sounds of explosions and gunfire outside.

The room was full of various bits of tech, so he spent a moment grabbing the more interesting bits and shoving them into his pack for later, and then he heard the most terrific explosion yet. Bits of plaster dropped from the ceiling and into his hair, but he ignored it as he vaulted over a table and then went to the door, opening it a crack to make sure the coast was clear and he wasn’t going to get shot the moment he stepped outside. Junkrat grabbed a grenade and hurled it at a Talon agent who was shooting in Tracer’s general direction. The man exploded with a scream, and Tracer flashed him a thumbs up as she zipped away in a flash of blue.

Things were easing up now – it wasn’t a hugely populated Talon base, and he suspected the vast majority of the Talon agents had been dealt with by now. This was evidenced by the lack of gunfire, but Junkrat kept his frag launcher at the ready as he headed towards the sound of Reinhardt’s voice. Once he got there, he found everyone gathered in front of the main building. Mercy was patching up Mei, who had a bloody arm, but everyone else appeared unharmed.

“Ah, Junkrat!” Boomed Reinhardt. “Now we’re just waiting on Genji, Lena and Hana.”

They didn’t have long to wait as D.Va’s MEKA came around the corner, covered in dust from some sort of explosion. Junkrat didn’t pay much attention to her as he stood next to Roadhog, avidly discussing the battle, and then a blue blur blinked to a stop before them.

“Come and see what I found!” chirped Tracer, motioning them towards a building at the back of the compound.

“What is it, Lena?” Mercy asked, standing up from where she’d just finished bandaging Mei’s arm.

“This place isn’t just these buildings; I found a lift what goes underground. Looks like they ‘ave storage servers under there.”

“Servers?” Reinhardt boomed. “Lead ze way, Lena, we ought to see if there’s anything worth taking.”

 _Stealing?_  Junkrat perked up at the thought. Genji met up with them as the group followed Tracer back towards where she’d found the lift, and they all moved, albeit cautiously, in case there were any Talon agents hiding out still.

It seemed that there weren’t any, however, and they were soon in the underground server room, which turned out to be a plain cement bunker set deep into the ground, lined with steel cabinets and sever racks, and filled with several long desks covered with computer screens.

“ _Physical_ server racks?” He heard Symmetra muse. “They don’t want this information found by anyone else.”

“Looks like it.” D.Va chirped. “Lets see what we can find!”

Junkrat immediately threw himself headfirst under the nearest desk to get at the innards of the computer arrays, while Symmetra, Mercy and Tracer sat down to see if they could access whatever information Talon had stored there.

Junkrat paid the hacking little mind; instead, he and Roadhog went around the room stealing anything and everything that wasn’t nailed down as McCree lounged in a chair and smoked, while the Shimada brothers conferred quietly in the corner. He and Roadhog spent their time rifling through the cupboards and shoving various bits of tech into their packs while Mei poked about as well, but she didn't take anything. Junkrat even found a Talon agent’s duffel bag filled with spare leads; he tipped out the leads and used it to cram even more tech in there.

Junkrat was elbow deep in a toolbox when he heard Tracer exclaim, but he didn’t pay her much mind.

“Look at this! Talon been trying to track the movements of someone called ‘Soldier: 76’. Didn’t Winston say something about him?”

“He’s a vigilante, I believe. Spotted a few times recently fighting Talon and the like.” Mercy said thoughtfully, and Junkrat looked up for a moment to consider things. Had he heard of this Soldier: 76 bloke? He didn’t reckon so, so he tuned back out again and kept digging. He came up with a couple of screwdrivers that’d be handy, so he shoved them into his pack along with the other various bits and bobs he’d acquired.

"What are'ya doin', Junk boy?" 

Junkrat stuck his head out of the cupboard, raising a brow at McCree. "What's it look like, mate?" He asked, squinting at some sort of drive. "I'm nicking all their shit."

McCree chuckled. "Guess that was obvious." He leaned back in his chair, and Junkrat dug back into the cupboard again.

After a while, it was clear they were ready to go (they’d imported most of Talon’s files onto physical hard drives that Symmetra had plucked from the air; she said they were crude methods of data transference, but with such old technology in use by Talon, she had no choice), but Junkrat was lingering over the last desk, rifling through the drawers. He’d already come up with several coils of wiring he could use in his explosives, and he was right pleased with the day’s haul.

“Junkrat?” Reinhardt boomed, and he looked up.

“Yeah?”

“It is time to leave.” The knight grinned broadly. “Do you think you can blow ze entire compound, or…?”

Junkrat felt a grin stretch his lips. “ _Mate_.” He said, straightening up and doing finger guns at Reinhardt. “You’ve come ta the right bloke.”

He and Roadhog spent a few minutes stringing charges along the walls of the underground server room and then spent a while placing explosives at the weak points of all the buildings, and then once everyone else had cleared out back to the drop ship, he got ready to detonate.

“How big is this explosion gonna be?” Asked D.Va excitedly; she was the only one who’d stayed behind, partly so she could give him a lift back to the dropship with her MEKA, and partly (or so she’d told him _after_ everyone had left) so she could get a good look at the impending destruction of the Talon base.

“Bloody _huge_.” Junkrat snickered to himself. “Best hold onta a tree or somthin’. Might blow ya over.”

D.Va laughed in delight. “What’s gonna happen?”

Delighted at genuine curiosity at his explosives, Junkrat loped over to stand beside her. _Bloody hell_ , he noted. _She’s short as fuck._ “Roight, I strung me main charges along the sever room and the bases of the buildin’s round it, roight?”

“Right!”

“Roight, so when I hit me detonator-” Junkrat mimed an explosion with his hands. “- _boom_ , but then-” He then mimed a cave in. “-the base oughta collapse in on itself.”

“Awesome!” D.Va bounced a little on the spot.

Junkrat looked from her to the detonator, and then curled his teeth over his tongue as he grinned. “Ya wanna do the honours?”

D.Va smiled the most ecstatically evil smile. “Can I?”

“Yeah, why not?” He casually tossed her the detonator, a little white smiley face painted on the side of it. “Give ‘er a burl.”

She looked confused for a moment. _“Burl?”_ Tossing her hair back, D.Va squinted at him. “Is that an Australian word?”

Junkrat sniggered. “Yeah mate. That’s straight strine.”

D.Va grinned. “ _Strine?_ Dude, you gotta teach me!”

Junkrat cracked his jaw, going for a contemplative look. “Yeah, righto. We’ll get’cha up ta speed on all the shit I come out with.”

D.Va giggled at that. “So what do I do? Just press the button?”

Junkrat scanned the compound and doubled checked they were far enough away. “Yup.”

There was a small click as she pressed the red button, and the explosion that followed nearly knocked D.Va over all together. Junkrat reached out and grabbed her arm as the shockwave rushed over them, and then he whooped with delight as the majority of the compound caved in on itself, sending choking clouds of smoke, debris and fire into the air.

“Wouldja lookit that!” He shouted, ears ringing. “What a ripper!”

D.Va was laughing delightedly. “That was _awesome_!” She crowed. “I want to do it again!”

Junkrat snickered – it looked like the runt of the team mightn’t be so bad after all. “Tell ya what, lofty – next mission, I’ll give ya a grenade or two.”

She practically had stars in her eyes. “ _Nice_.” D.Va narrowed her eyes then. “Lofty?”

Junkrat chuckled and mocked measured her against him. “Yer pretty short, y’know.”

She bristled, but there was a grin twisting her lips. “Not my fault you’re a beanpole.”

Junkrat waved an airy hand. “You’ll have to try harder than _that_ , squirt.”

D.Va made a face at him and then clambered up into the cockpit of her MEKA. “C’mon, they’ll be waiting.”

“Alroight.” Junkrat clambered up onto the back of the MEKA and thumped the roof when he and his duffel bag was securely in place. The MEKA started up then, and began jogging through the woods at a brisk pace. They reached the dropship much faster than they would have if they were walking, which Junkrat was quite pleased about.

He jumped off the back of the MEKA and headed towards Roadhog as D.Va bounced out towards Reinhardt and Mercy, who appeared to be co-ordinating things.

“Junkrat let me blow up the compound!” D.Va exclaimed, to which Reinhardt chuckled.

“You let ze child have ze explosives?”

Junkrat shrugged and grinned. “What? She’s a natural.”

D.Va beamed, and then Tracer came down the steps. “Orright, guys, I’ve got reports that the explosion was seen. Copper’s will be ‘ere soon, we’d best be off.”

“All right, everyone into the ship.” Mercy called, clapping her hands lightly.

Junkrat plopped down on one of the low seats besides Roadhog, tugging the duffel bag into his lap as thy waited for D.Va to get her MEKA on board. Unzipping the bag, he compared his finds with the stuff Roadhog had collected, until they’d been in the air for nearly fifteen minutes, and he came across something _interesting_.

While poking through a cabinet in the server room, Junkrat had come across a sleek white tablet, which he’d shoved in his duffel to either use for scraps or sell. Curious to see if there was anything interesting on it, he hit the switch on the side and waited to see if it’d boot up, or if it was flat. The screen flickered to life, however, and he watched with a sort of detached interest as it cycled through the opening sequence, and then reached the login screen.

 _That_ made him sit up straighter.

Junkrat frowned as he eyed the wallpaper – it was a symbol he was quite sure he recognised.

“Oi.” He muttered, nudging Roadhog and showing him the tablet. “You recognise this?”

Roadhog watched the screen for a few slow seconds, exhaled, then looked up.

At Symmetra.

She was sitting curled up on the opposite side of the craft, a frown on her face as she tried to wipe her formerly shiny prosthetic clean of dust and blood. As all she was succeeding in doing was smearing grime across the white plates, she didn’t seem to be overly impressed.

“Oi, ‘Metra.” Junkrat called, and when she looked up, confusion in her eyes at having been addressed by him, he held up the tablet. “Ain’t this a Vishkar symbol thingo?”

Her brows snapped together as everyone else stared.

 _“Vishkar?”_ Symmetra stood up and marched towards him, palm out. “Show me.”

“Oi, bossy, ain’t ya?” He muttered, but put the tablet into her hand anyway.

Symmetra was frowning very hard now as she fiddled around with it, but Junkrat couldn’t see what she was doing.

“Where did you find this?” She snapped, accent stronger from irritation.

Junkrat cracked his neck. “In the sever room. One a’ the cupboards.”

“ _So_ …” Lúcio began in the far too innocent tone of someone who was planning to start shit. “What’s Vishkar tech doing in a Talon compound?”

Symmetra glared at the D.J, and Junkrat almost snickered from how annoyed she looked.

“Vishkar tech is highly coveted for its superiority.” She began in quite a haughty tone. “Naturally, people make frequent attempts to steal it. _Obviously_ , that is what’s happened here.”

Lúcio deflated slightly at the perfectly reasonable explanation, and Junkrat snickered.

“So what’ve Talon been doing with it?” He asked, rubbing at his jaw curiously. “Got any secrets on there?”

“I’m not sure.” Symmetra frowned at the tablet again. “I’ll have to go through it carefully.”

“Be sure to show Winston.” Mercy called, and Symmetra turned around.

“I assure you, I have every intention of doing so.” She said smoothly, before she crossed the ship and sat down again in her seat. Junkrat scowled.

“Lookit that.” He muttered to Roadhog. “Shoulda kept me mouth shut; just lost me a good bit a tech.”

Roadhog huffed out a chuckle, and Junkrat sulked for a moment before he started rifling through his stolen goods once more. He supposed one tablet wasn’t much of a sacrifice; besides, Symmetra was frowning so heavily at it he doubted he’d get it back in a hurry. So Talon had stolen Vishkar tech – that ought to have her knickers in a twist. Symmetra seemed pretty possessive over Vishkar and anything to do with them; Junkrat found himself sniggering slightly at how put out she was.

“Well, everyone.” Reinhardt boomed. “Lena? Can you hear me?”

There was a slight crackle, and then Tracer’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Tracer and Mei, reportin’ fer duty!” She said with a snicker.

“Good, good.” Renihardt nodded. “Ze mission was a great success, and we should all be pleased with a hard day’s work. Genji, excellent work disabling zat guard tower.”

The cyborg inclined his head. “It _was_ pretty sweet, wasn’t it?” His robotic voice was a little jarring with the playful tone, and Junkrat frowned; even though Genji wasn’t _technically_ a robot, he still wasn’t sure if he should trust the bloke at all. He and Roadhog had agreed to keep their distance from him all the same.

“Ze Talon base has been completely destroyed, thanks to our new demolitions expert-” Junkrat grinned smugly at that, leaning back to affect a casual air. “-and I find it doubtful zat Talon will be able to return to zis base.” Reinhardt paused to rub his beard. “Do you think zey will?” He asked Mercy, brows raised. “It was only small-”

“Nah, I don’t reckon so.” Interjected McCree, from where he was lounging against the wall. “Small base, communications outpost. Nothin’ real valuable there outside the servers, and they’ve gone up in smoke.”

“Very true!” Reinhardt leaned back. “Well zen, it looks like our mission is complete with minimal hassle. Good job all around, everyone.”

With the briefing over, Junkrat tuned back out, digging through his duffel bag again, satisfaction from a job well done and multiple explosions beaming through him. Setting aside the bag in favour of pulling out a half completed cherry bomb, he started yammering away to Roadie about the fight, in such a good mood he forgot to be concerned with the Vishkar tablet.

When they arrived back at the base, however, and Symmetra had left the hangar, tablet in hand, Lúcio pointed after her.

“Are you just going to let her _have_ it?” He exclaimed, and Junkrat paused in the act of shoving all his bits and bobs back into his duffel bag.

Reinhardt paused. “It _is_ a Vishkar-”

“But do you _believe_ her?” Lúcio gesticulated wildly. “What if she’s lying?”

“Calm down, dude.” D.Va said as she examined a scorch mark on her MEKA. “Winston’ll get the tablet. ‘Sides, Vishkar aren’t terrorists or anything.”

Lúcio swelled in indignation. “That’s beside the point.” He snapped, folding his arms and glaring at the doorway Symmetra had disappeared through. “I don’t trust her.”

Junkrat frowned; Symmetra _was_ a suit. Perhaps Lúcio did have a valid point after all. 


	10. Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya feels conflicted and Junkrat nearly blows the workshop up.

Satya bit her lip as she watched Lúcio skating absently around the hangar bay, and then shook her head and continued on her way through the compound towards the rec area. She was on her way to find Winston, for Sanjay had sent her another holovid transmission, asking for more information... that, plus she had the tablet Junkrat had found to deal with. Both of these presented issues – the tablet was an issue because it meant that Vishkar tech and information had been compromised, but Sanjay wanting an update was an issue because Lúcio had gone down to Gibraltar and gotten himself spotted, the fool. The Vishkar operative that had observed him leaving the base hadn’t recognised him for who he was, but Sanjay wanted details. While she was still very much inclined to forward all information to Vishkar… she found that she genuinely liked the Overwatch crew. Most of them, at least. The longer she spent on Gibraltar, the more she didn’t particularly want to see them hurt. Especially Mei and D.Va, to whom she’d grown fairly close.

The issue lay with Lúcio. Satya didn’t care if she reported him – in fact, she’d be happy to. He was a criminal, a wanted thief, and while he wasn’t the only one on the team who fit that description – a blond and sooty head popped into her thoughts and she willed it away again – he was the only one who’d brazenly stolen from Vishkar. The problem was, if she reported him and he was arrested, it would divide the team and turn them against her, which, owing to her mission objective, was not something she wanted.

Satya’s thoughts turned to the rest of the team as she walked. She’d been with Overwatch for six weeks now, and she felt like she had observed enough to get a proper handle on their personalities. McCree spent his time smoking, shooting and annoying the ever cool and collected yet seemingly sad Hanzo, while his brother was a curious mix of boyish playfulness and meditative calm. Genji had departed for Nepal this morning to see his mentor, who she’d uncovered to be the Zenyatta she’d heard mentioned a few times. She liked the cyborg well enough, however, and if this Zenyatta returned to Overwatch with him, she hoped he’d be equally amiable.

Mei was cheerful and kind, and she and Junkrat had gotten off on the wrong foot almost immediately, which Tracer found hilarious, for she didn’t like the Junkers either. D.Va was peppy and fun, and seemingly didn’t care who she was speaking to – she just did.

Mercy, Reinhardt, Torbjörn and Winston were the true neutrals of the group – no matter what petty squabbles were happening throughout the ranks, all four were reliable to speak with. Roadhog kept himself to himself, either lifting immense weights in the gym or shadowing Junkrat, who insisted on shoving his sooty nose in exactly the kind of places it wasn’t welcome. She could hear his insane laugh echoing off the walls even now, reminding her of why she’d left the workshop after poking through the tablet; the Junker had spent all morning crafting new explosives to replace the ones he’d used on the mission, and then a few minutes ago had proclaimed his latest batch of bombs to be complete, and then had started jabbering on about testing them – Satya was fairly confident he wasn’t going to blow up the actual workshop, but you couldn’t be too sure, especially when dealing with explosives in the hands of a lunatic. So, she had left, feigning a small errand, and then when she’d been on her way back to her room to continue sorting through the files on the tablet, she’d received the transmission from Sanjay.

Satya chewed on her lip. She’d been here for a while now… and she needed to start delivering proper information, or Vishkar might start an enquiry. She felt incredibly guilty about what she was doing; if she fudged the details about Lúcio, she _would_ only be withholding a mere scrap of information, and yet, Vishkar was her whole life. She would be betraying them.

Reaching Winston’s lab, she knocked softly and waited for his gruff answer.

“Come in.”

Satya walked in and found Winston seated at a table across from Mercy, steaming mugs of tea in their hands, plans spread out before them.

“Ah, Symmetra.” Winston rumbled at the same time Mercy smiled.

“Hello, Symmetra. Did you want to speak to Winston?”

“I did, yes.” Satya looked down at the tablet in her hands. “I’ve analysed the tablet Junkrat found… its contents are quite interesting.”

“I will go.” Mercy said, beginning to rise, and Satya stepped forwards.

“You don’t have to. In fact, I would rather the whole team knew exactly what Talon was doing with Vishkar tech. I know Lúcio is… suspicious.”

The doctor exchanged a look with the scientist, and then Winston gestured at the spare seat. “Sit.”

Satya sat down, neatly arranging her skirt as she did so, placing the tablet dead centre in front of her. “As I said, I’ve analysed the contents of this.” She began, tapping the screen gently. “It appears to be a tablet once used as a record keeper by an agent based at a Vishkar database in Toulouse.”

Mercy raised a brow. “Toulouse?”

“Vishkar _is_ an international entity.” Satya reminded them. “We have bases established on almost every continent.”

“What kind of records are they?” Winston inquired.

“They are mainly notes of Vishkar’s movements in the area; meetings with prominent French leaders, construction records and contracts. Not the most vital or private information, but I am still rather uncomfortable knowing that Talon has access to this.”

“That’s understandable.” Said Winston slowly. “And has Talon added or edited anything on there?”

Satya turned on the tablet and flicked through the files. “Not that I can really tell…” She said slowly. “But I was hoping Athena might be able to get right in deep and see.”

“That’s a good idea.” Winston leaned back slightly. “We can start now, if you’d like. Athena, can you-”

“Wait.”

Winston adjusted his glasses before he spoke. “Is there something wrong?”

Satya turned off the tablet and straightened its position on the table before she spoke. “The tablet is not all that I am here to speak about. There is the issue of Lúcio.”

Mercy frowned. “He hasn’t accosted you again?”

“No, nothing like that.” In fact, Lúcio had pretty much ignored her very since their original fight. To her face, at least. He’d barely said one word to her, and she ignored him in return. It was an arrangement that suited them both, though she knew he tried to convince the others that she wasn’t trustworthy behind her back. “He left the base the other day, of which I’m sure you’re aware.”

“He went shopping with Hana.” Winston rumbled.

“He was seen.” Satya crossed her legs. “Vishkar has several agents based around Gibraltar, just in case. One team was doing surveillance in the main market area, and spotted him with D.Va.”

“So is Vishkar coming to arrest him? When?” Winston’s voice was sharp.

“Not quite. He was seen clearly associating with D.Va, but the agents didn’t recognise him – likely because he was too far away. I have, however, been provided with a description, and am expected to make a full report detailing who he is and his role within Overwatch.”

Winston took off his glasses and occupied himself with folding them closed before he spoke. “We do appreciate you keeping Lúcio’s presence quiet thus far, Symmetra. Am I correct in saying that Vishkar wants a definitive answer?”

Satya nodded. “They do indeed.”

The gorilla inclined his head. “I think I may have a solution.”

Satya gave him her full attention. “What do you propose?”

“The UN suspects us after the mission yesterday. Junkrat’s explosion wasn’t the subtlest way we’ve ever shut down a Talon compound.”

“I can imagine.” Satya said dryly.

Mercy snickered slightly, and Winston grinned. “Well, the UN has caught wind of the explosion. The bodies recovered have been positively identified as Talon agents, so the finger is currently being pointed quite firmly at us. They want us to admit guilt or provide an alibi.”

“Winston’s been leaking false reports of vigilantes in the area-” Mercy put in. “-in the hopes that it’ll take some of the heat off our backs.”

Winston inclined his head and slid his glasses back on. “Yes, that too. Anyhow, the UN is demanding we release our agent files to the world, so Lúcio’s involvement will be known anyway. So, make your report, but we would appreciate it if you made it clear that you are the only Vishkar agent who is permitted to set foot in this base. _Any_ attempts to arrest him will be met with resistance.”

Satya inclined her head. “I understand. I will inform my superiors of your position.”

At that moment, a terrific explosion rocked the base.

“What the-?” Roared Winston, and Satya frowned, noting the direction of the sound as the fire alarms started wailing.

“That was probably Junkrat.” She said thoughtfully. “He was informing me this morning that he intended to test his latest batch of explosives.”

“Has that fool blown up the workshop now?” Winston turned to the nearest monitor bearing a blue A. “Athena! Security feed for the workshop, please.”

Athena pulled up the appropriate screens, and if a computer AI could sound sarcastic, it would have, for the screens showed nothing but billowing black clouds.

“As you can see, there’s nothing but smoke.”

“Is Junkrat hurt?” Mercy asked worriedly. “I should go down.”

Satya privately wanted to see the spectacle herself (so she could have a private victory over how her opinions on how dangerous the Junker’s explosives were had just been proved right), and so she followed Winston and Mercy as they ran down the halls towards the workshop. They got there just as McCree, Hanzo and Tracer did, and then Roadhog appeared from the billowing clouds of smoke with a lanky blond lunatic thrown over his shoulder. Said lanky blond lunatic currently sounded like he was coughing up both lungs even as he laughed hysterically, and Satya’s brows drew together in sheer disbelief at his utter idiocy. The corridors flashed with red lights as the fire alarms blared, but Winston barked an order at Athena and got the AI to turn them off. The silence seemed somehow more piercing than the alarms had been.

Roadhog set Junkrat on the ground, and then Mercy swooped in, the doctor asking questions in her no-nonsense voice and holding Junkrat up while he tried to get the smoke out of his lungs. By now, everyone was coughing and gagging from the billowing waves of smoke, and on the other side of them, Torbjörn was throwing a fit about the state of his workshop in between coughing. Realising that nothing seemed to be actively on fire and that the workshop needed sealing, Satya stepped forwards, imagining a solid barrier that would fit over the massive doorway and block it off, and then she pulled it into existence, flicking it from her left palm into the air, where it crafted a blue seal over the doorway and stopped the smoke.

“Thank you Symmetra.” Mercy gasped out even as she fussed over Junkrat, who was still giggling inanely and by now trying to fend the doctor off.

“I’m good, Doc, I’m good.” He got out, snickering as he tipped his head back and leaned against the wall.

“Well, what happened?” Mercy demanded, and Satya folded her arms in disapproval at the wild grin on the Junker’s face. Junkrat was entirely covered in soot, his face, chest and hair covered in dark ashes.

“Smoke bomb. Dunno what happened, really. Must be a fault.” He snickered, then threw his hands out wide. “Ka- _boom_!”

“ _Boom_ is right.” Interjected McCree dryly. “Thought we was under attack for a hot minute.”

That only made Junkrat cackle louder, and Satya judged him. She judged him hard.

“As did I.” Hanzo said with a nod as he turned to McCree. “You could have had a chance to prove yourself with that ridiculous peashooter.” The Japanese man had been ribbing McCree over his gun for the last few weeks, to the amusement of everyone else.

Satya ignored the ninja and the cowboy as the latter bristled over the slight to the size of his gun, and fixed her gaze on the filthy lunatic as he scrambled to his feet, prosthetic scraping on the floor with a shrill grating noise.

“Oi, how d’ya get this thing down?” Junkrat knocked on the hard light construct with his metal hand, then turned around and raised a brow filled with soot.

“Ah, just wait a minute there, darlin’-” McCree interjected. “-let me get my ass someplace else a’fore you take that thing down.”

McCree scooted off down the corridor, followed by Lúcio, D.Va, Mei and Hanzo, and Reinhardt clapped Torbjörn on the shoulder with a hearty “Good luck!” before the knight strode off, leaving Torbjörn grumbling under his breath as he peered into the workshop.

Winston and Mercy both frowned at Junkrat as he chattered about the effectiveness of the smoke bomb to Roadhog, and Satya stood there calmly, waiting until she was needed to take down her barrier.

“Junkrat.” Winston didn’t sound very impressed, but this was clearly lost on the Junker as he turned around, teeth beaming white against his blackened face.

“Yeah?”

“In the future, can you _please_ refrain from setting off explosives inside the base?”

Junkrat flung both hands in the air. “It wasn’t my fault!” He protested. “The bloody thing’s trigger happy, that’s all!”

Mercy was frowning at him, and Satya privately smiled, enjoying the way the Junker was wilting under the motherly disapproval.

“Then perhaps you ought to work on your more _sensitive_ designs outside.” She said firmly, and Winston nodded.

“Please do, Junkrat. We don’t want to lose the workshop.”

Junkrat nodded and folded his arms. “Yeah, yeah, all roight.” Satya’s gaze ran along the dirt and grease encrusted over the joints of his prosthetic and she frowned; he was so _unclean_.

“How do we get the smoke out?” Demanded Torbjörn. “There are no vindows in there!”

At that, Satya stepped forwards. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

Raising her hands, she performs the necessary motions to disable the shield and pull it back towards her, causing everyone to cough slightly as thick smoke washed over them. Satya’s eyes began to water as she concentrated on pushing and pulling the layers of light in her hand until she had constructed a basic exhaust fan – she’d used them before in explosive situations. Twisting her hands, the construct fell to the floor and attached neatly, and she moved quickly forwards, hand over her mouth as she switched it on. There was immediately a whir and then the powerful fans beat to life, drawing the smoke down inside the machine and giving them all almost instant relief.

“That thing is wicked handy.” Junkrat bounded towards her, eyeing the construct with a sort of curious glee. “Wish I’d ‘ad one back home.” Behind him, Torbjörn went charging towards his forge, running his hands over his tools and equipment, muttering things in Swedish in a foul tone under his breath.

“Perhaps you could donate that one, Symmetra?” Suggested Winston. “It would be safer if Junkrat has a way to… clean up.”

 _A good and sensible idea. At last._ “I can improve the design and construct several to leave on the walls as permanent fixtures.” She motioned at the exhaust on the ground by her foot. “This one is very rudimentary and won’t last long.”

“That’d be appreciated.” Winston inclined his big head, a soft grunt escaping him as he turned to the doctor beside him. “Come on, Angela. Our tea will be cold.”

They had just left when Mercy stuck her head back in the door. “Symmetra.” She called softly, and Satya looked up from where she was wiping down the soot that had settled all over her desk.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to check… we are all still in agreement about what we were discussing, yes?”

In other words, was she still going to report Lúcio’s presence? _Yes_. Satya nodded. “Yes.”

Mercy nodded and disappeared again, leaving her to unhappily appraise her filthy bench. Torbjörn was still muttering under his breath as he shifted things around and shook the soot off them, and Junkrat was gibbering to Roadhog about the bang his smoke bomb had produced. Satya sighed as she picked up a schematic that had a fine film of soot on it and frowned at the inconvenience that lunatic had caused her, before she resigned herself to spending the entire afternoon cleaning up.

Satya turned to narrow her eyes at Junkrat, taking in the disaster zone that was his workspace – piles of soot filled, greasy shells were heaped on his work bench, while tools, gears and coils of wire were scattered across the floor, along with sketched out plans and open tins of paint. Junkrat noticed the direction of her gaze and hastily gathered up the plans, shoving them into a drawer and flipping his notebook shut. He seemed to be very protective of it; she’d noticed that he always covered it up when anyone other than Roadhog was looking. Perhaps he just wanted to conceal the designs for his explosives. That thought brought her attention back to his little smoke bomb.

“What on _earth_ were you doing?” She snapped, shaking out some of her schematics and scowling as soot drifted onto her clean white blouse.

“I was workin’ on me stock.” Junkrat said, a little defensively. “Some’a these things can be touchy, y'know.”

Satya scowled harder as she picket up a prototype turret; the shiny white was now covered in soot. “Well, perhaps you can be slightly more cautious in the future.”

“I agree!” Torbjörn pointed a pair of pliers at the guilty Junker. “I won’t allow you to blow up my forge. I need it!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Junkrat seemed rather unconcerned as he flopped down in his chair, getting even more soot on his body. Satya barely supressed a shiver at the thought.

Turning back to her belongings, Satya crafted a nice, _clean_ hard light table and a pristine new chair (there was no way she was ever going to sit in her old one again) and carefully began wiping down each and every object she had resting on her bench, with the aim of clearing everything off her workbench so she could wipe it down, and then put everything back.

Satya was so annoyed at Junkrat for being so careless and creating this massive inconvenience and so irritated at the layer of soot coating her possessions that it wasn’t until several hours later, when she’d finally finished cleaning, that she realised that when the smoke bomb had gone off… she’d left the Vishkar tablet sitting on the table.

Satya instantly scooted out the door, ignoring everyone that she passed as she made a beeline back to Winston’s lab. Upon gaining access, she found Winston sitting at his computer arrays talking to Athena, and the tablet – it wasn’t on the table.

Suspicion awoke deep within her belly.

“Winston.” Satya greeted him calmly. “After the mess Junkrat caused I’ve only just realised I left that tablet behind.”

“Ah.” Winston pointed to his left, where the tablet was hooked up to some cables. “I found it when I returned, and took the liberty of letting Athena do her thing. I’ll have both the tablet and the report returned to you once she’s done.”

Satya nodded, relived that Winston still had it. “That will be perfectly acceptable. I will see you later then.”

Winston nodded as he moved to a flashing screen and typed something. “Have a good evening.” He tossed out over his shoulder, and Satya left the room. She still held a faint sense of unease about the tablet, but… everything should be fine. Winston had it, and she’d been through the files – there was nothing on there that Vishkar would want to be kept away from prying Overwatch eyes. She would simply collect the tablet when Athena was finished running through the files, and have it delivered, alongside the report generated, back to Vishkar. Satya was passing the rec area when she heard Lúcio’s voice, and she narrowed her eyes.

Striding into the room, she beheld Lúcio, D.Va, McCree and Mei battling one another on one of D.Va’s games, while Reinhardt and Torbjörn chatted on the sofa.

“Hey Symmetra!” D.Va called, waving quickly and then scrunching up her nose as she pressed some buttons on her controller furiously.

“Hello.” Satya advanced into the room, deliberately meeting Lúcio’s gaze. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Something you want?” He said roughly, and Satya took the time to flick an invisible speck of dust from her shoulder before replying.

“You went down to the town the other day.” It was a statement, not a question, and Lúcio looked suspicious and annoyed.

“So what? Do I have to run my whereabouts past you now?”

“No, but I had thought you’d be more intelligent as to go outside in broad daylight.” Satya edged her voice with quiet malice, and Lúcio stood up.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” He snapped.

D.Va stood up too and looked concerned. “Hey, Lúcio-”

“You were _seen_.” Satya gave the DJ a hard look. “Didn’t I tell you to stay within the base? _Didn’t I say_ your leaving would increase your chances of being found out?”

Lúcio’s eyes widened, his skin paling slightly, and Satya decided to embellish slightly, to _really_ put fear into his heart. She hadn’t reported him yet, but _he_ didn’t have to know that.

“Vishkar agents saw you and D.Va together, and they already know she is with Overwatch. Therefore, you were immediately made a person of interest.” She said primly. “Your location has been flagged and the warrant for your arrest renewed.”

“What does zat mean for the boy?” Reinhardt boomed from the couch, and Satya turned to face the knight.

“It means that Lúcio is safe so long as he is inside the base, but the moment he steps outside he is fair game.”

D.Va elbowed Lúcio and called him an idiot under her breath, and Satya had to conceal her smile.

“Fair warning, Lúcio.” She said coldly, and then she turned on her heel and left, listening to Lúcio blustering and D.Va scolding as she headed down the corridor.

Reaching her bedroom, Satya entered her small bathroom and washed her face. She felt… well, she wasn’t quite sure of the emotions swirling deep in her belly. It was… unease? This was a complicated situation she was in, and more and more things were happening to add little threads of confusion. She needed to _think_.

Satya opened up her wardrobe and pulled her exercise clothes out. She tried to clear her mind as she changed from her uniform to her comfy yoga pants, neatly folding her blouse and skirt before she pulled out her yoga mat and sank down on it. She performed a few simple exercises, focusing on her breathing in a bid to relax.

There was nothing explicitly worrying, not really. It was more… she had a vague suspicion that something was in motion, something big. It annoyed her that she didn’t know what. Assuming the _gomukhasana_ pose, Satya breathed deeply and then transitioned into _janu sirsasana_ before she closed her eyes, holding the pose and letting the peaceful state of mind that came with the exercise wash over her. With it came a rush of tranquillity; everything would become clear in time. Of that, she was sure.


	11. An Unexpected Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat is forced to reveal something to Symmetra he'd rather have kept hidden - with unexpected results.

Junkrat reached for the tomato sauce and upended it over his sausages, digging in happily. Roadhog, who was now sitting next to him, had finally dragged him out of the workshop and forced him to wash up for dinner; Junkrat would have happily stayed behind to tinker with his bombs, but Roadhog was right – he hadn’t eaten since some time yesterday.

Bangers and mash tasted ten times better here then they ever did in the Outback – the meat and potatoes (along with most of their other stolen goods) tended to not last the trip back to Junkertown very well, and so the freshly cooked food they got here at Overwatch was like a bunch of angels having an orgy on his tongue during every meal.

Scooping up an enormous mouthful of mash, Junkrat shovelled it into his mouth and then realised he’d miscalculated, and had to pause the story he was telling Hog as he choked down the potatoes. Everyone was present at dinner, and while he and Roadhog had a table to themselves, everyone else was sharing.

At the table directly beside them, Hana was loudly grilling Symmetra about her hard light abilities, totally ignoring the fact that Symmetra looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. Hana was on a mission to befriend every single person on the base, and she’d already succeeded with him – she’d invited him to use her real name, complimented his explosives, spent a few afternoons helping paint shells, and brought him snacks. As far as Junkrat was concerned, they were best mates for life.

“So what can you make with it?”

Despite his preoccupation with his dinner, Junkrat couldn’t help but tune in; Symmetra’s fancy hand and all the things it could spin out of thin air were very interesting to him still.

“It varies.” Symmetra replied, her tone regal. “It’s not a question of what I can’t create, because I can give form to anything you choose. It’s whether I know _how_ to form it that creates my barriers.”

Junkrat pondered this. _Barriers?_

“So…” Hana wrinkled her nose. “Could you create… a computer?”

“Certainly.”

“A gun?”

“Yes.”

Furniture?”

“Yes.” The look on Symmetra’s face was almost amused.

“A house?”

“If I have blueprints.”

Hana looked as confused as Junkrat felt. “Blueprints?”

Symmetra crossed her legs, taking her time before replying. “Of course. Imagine building a home in your mind; you would really just be picturing the essentials – walls, a roof, the door, would you not?”

“I suppose.” Hana replied, still sounding confused.

Symmetra’s voice took on a patient tone then. “So I need blueprints. I use them to map out the spaces in my head; the dimensions, the thickness of the walls, the foundation. Without those, my creation has no structural integrity, and falls apart.”

Hana still looked confused, so Symmetra set her fork down neatly. “Here. Let me show you.”

Junkrat watched, forgetting to eat the sausage he’d just stabbed with his fork as Symmetra wove blue light between her fingers, forming a small rectangular object that soon revealed itself to be a phone.

Symmetra laid it flat on the table and turned it one, swiping her fingers across the screen to display that it worked. “See? I have studied this kind of technology, and I know how it works and how to put it together when crafting it, but if I were to create something like…” She looked around for inspiration. “May I have your handheld?”

Hana pulled the little gaming device from her pocket and handed it over, and Junkrat watched a crease form between Symmetra’s brows as she turned it over in her hands, studying it intently. Finally, she put it down and spun more light between her fingers, and eventually a perfect replica of the handheld took shape.

Hana took it with a wide-eyed “Whoa!”, and turned it on. The screen flickered and buzzed, before making a small grinding noise and shutting down.

Symmetra grimaced. “See? I can replicate what I can see, but I’d need to open up your handheld and see the inner mechanisms before I could get my replica to a working standard.”

“I get it now.” Hana chirped, putting her handheld back into her pocket and setting the broken one back on the table, besides the phone. Symmetra looked pleased.

“I’m glad that you do.” She said softly. “Some like to think that architechs can craft anything at anytime, and while a highly skilled user _can_ generally manipulate reality to that extent, there is always going to be something you’ve never crafted before.”

“It’s so cool though.” Hana bounced a little. “If you knew how it worked, could you replicate my MEKA?”

“If you gave me the blueprints, I could have it done by the end of the week.”

Symmetra’s lips curved up in a slight smile, and Junkrat frowned to himself. He was all of a sudden having to rethink exactly how powerful he thought her hard light was; he’d been under the impression that she just made smaller little do-dads, but this? She could create buildings and goddamn war machines? That was a good deal more intense than he’d anticipated.

“Awesome! Could you make explosives to arm this hypothetical MEKA with? Would that work?”

Junkrat’s head snapped up so fast his bones cricked alarmingly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. Symmetra noticed, and she gave him a look that could only be said to be derisive.

“Theoretically, yes.” She began, and Junkrat’s mind immediately spun out on a tangent. Imagine how useful one of those prosthetics of hers would be! Instant bombs, no assembly required… he would never run the risk of running out of explosives in a fight again! Of course, it’d take all the fun out of making them himself, but still… he rubbed his chin dreamily as he considered all the possibilities.

Hana leaned over and punched his arm then. “Hey Junkboy! What are you thinking?”

“I ain’t gonna lie.” He said, pointing a sausage at her. “It’d be pretty fuckin’ sweet t'be able t'make bombs on the spot.” Junkrat giggled to himself as he pictured it.

Symmetra raised a brow. “Of course you would think that.”

“Do you ever make them in combat?” Hana asked, and Junkrat listened attentively. If this was something Symmetra did on a regular basis, that meant he had to start positioning himself where he could see the explosions.

“No, I don’t.” Symmetra frowned at them both as Junkrat deflated. She didn’t make bombs? “I do not like to kill if I can avoid it.” She continued primly. “That is why I focus primarily on shields and turrets. Explosives are more likely to cause grievous bodily harm, so I do not use them.”

 _That_ was a waste of talent if ever Junkrat had heard it. “Oi, c’mon.” He interjected, leaning across the gap between the tables and brandishing a sausage at her. “Y’can’t jus’ say somethin’ like that an’ leave me hangin’!” Junkrat leaned in closer. “Will y'make me a bomb? I wanna see what a fancy Vishkar bomb looks like.”

Symmetra’s gaze was frosty even as she raised a delicately arched brow. “I most certainly will not.”

Junkrat started to protest this injustice when Roadhog gripped his arm and tugged him back around to see Mercy standing in front of them.

“Doc.” Junkrat said, surprised, and she smiled at them both.

“Junkrat, you’ve been ignoring my messages about coming down for your physical.” Mercy folded her arms, looking severe. “It’s been weeks, and I really do need you to come down, for our records.”

Junkrat thought of his Overwatch issued phone and felt a small prickle of guilt, which he shoved down again. “Sorry doc.” He said cheerfully, taking a bite of sausage and speaking through the mouthful. “Guess I forgot.”

“Hmm.” Mercy turned to Roadhog then. “Roadhog, could you please see to it that Junkrat makes it to the medibay at some point today?”

“Today?” Junkrat spluttered through his mouthful of mash. “I’m busy!”

“Well you had best make yourself _unbusy_.” Mercy said firmly. “I’ve been waiting for weeks, and I’m sick of it. I want you in the medibay by seven o’clock _sharp_. Roadhog? Can you make sure Junkrat gets there?”

Junkrat deflated when Roadhog nodded.

“Good, thank you.” Mercy said, and as she walked away back to her own table, and Junkrat frowned after her, then elbowed Hog in the gut.

“Oi! Yer ‘sposed to be on my side, ain’tcha?” He glowered. “’Sides, how come I gotta have a physical when you don’t?”

“I’ve already been.” Roadhog rumbled, and Junkrat’s mouth fell open.

 _“What?_ When?”

“Weeks ago.”

“Well if that ain’t bloody typical.” Junkrat grumbled, poking at his mash. “Yer gonna drag me arse down there, ain’tcha?”

“Yep.”

Junkrat sulked for the rest of his meal, and true to his word, when they left the kitchen, Roadhog hooked a hand around his arm again and dragged him down the corridor, with Junkrat complaining loudly the whole time. He didn’t see the point of the physical; it was a waste of time.

Mercy was waiting when Roadhog shoved him through the door. Junkrat straightened up slightly and glowered at his bodyguard, who grunted amusedly and went to sit in the little waiting area.

“Thank you, Roadhog.” Mercy called, and got a raised hand in response before she shut the door firmly behind him and turned to face Junkrat, who was poking through a cabinet.

“Junkrat, please get out of the cupboard.” She said firmly. “Go and sit on the bed.”

It was a weird bed, but Junkrat hopped up anyway, making a face at the crinkly paper beneath him.

“What’s this stuff?” He asked, tugging at it, and Mercy frowned.

“It’s there to keep the bed sanitary. Didn’t you know that?”

Junkrat shrugged, looking around at the various shiny implements. “Ain’t never been t’the doctor.”

Her brows rose and she looked rather shocked, pausing in the middle of writing something. “What? _Never?”_

“No doctors in the outback. Not anymore.” Junkrat frowned. “Not that there were many t’begin with.”

“Well.” Mercy shook her head in a disbelieving manner. “We’ll have to go slightly more in depth then.”

Junkrat made a face. “In depth? What’s that ‘sposed t’mean?”

“It means I’ll have to assess more than your general health.” Mercy stood up then, grabbing a wooden… stick thing. “Stick out your tongue, please.”

Junkrat stared at her cautiously, then did as she asked, and was not at all prepared when she shoved the stick in his mouth and held down his tongue.

“Say ahh.” She commanded, and Junkrat tried to obey, eyes watering.

Mercy tossed the stick into the rubbish, and Junkrat coughed and massaged his throat. “Fuck, doc, ya coulda given a bloke a bit of warnin’.”

“My apologies, Junkrat.” Mercy looked over at him with a sympathetic look. “I’ve never treated anyone wholly unfamiliar with this sort of thing. I’ll explain what I’m doing in future.”

“Cheers.”

Junkrat found himself being rather fascinated by what she was doing to him as his physical progressed – she did things like check his blood pressure, take his temperature, check in his ears, his eyes, everywhere. She even got him to take off his prosthetics so she could examine his stumps.

“Who amputated these?” She asked while manipulating the stump of his arm. “And why?”

Junkrat tapped his leg. “Mine.” He tapped his arm. “Gangrene.”

Mercy made a sympathetic face. “And your recovery? If you had no doctor, what did you do?”

He eyed her for a moment and then decided that maybe it wouldn't hurt to tell her. “I was out near what used t’be a town when I lost me leg.” Junkrat leaned back against the wall more. “Was scavenging an old ohmic outpost. Fucked up an’ didn’t watch where I was goin'. Place is lousy with mines from the bots.”

“How did you stop yourself from bleeding out?” Mercy frowned as she made notes on her clipboard.

“Well, me leg was gone, hangin’ in shreds just above me knee.” Junkrat grinned at the doctor. “So I dragged m'self into the shade an’ tied it off real tight, set a little fire, sawed off the danglin’ bits, heated up a few knives an’ stopped the bleeding.”

Mercy's jaw dropped. “You did it _yourself?_ ”

“Not like I had a choice, did I?” He snapped.

“That’s certainly true. What did you do next?”

“Passed out, I dunno. Don't really remember.”

Mercy looked so concerned and sympathetic it made him squirm. “And then?”

“I mean, I don't really know. I think I was pretty sick, like a fever or somethin'. Ain't really surprisin', considerin' I'd just butchered me own leg." Junkrat hesitated, shadows of the monstrous pain coming back to haunt him. It had been the single most sickeningly agonising moment of his entire life, and he didn't like to think about it much. "Reckon I slept a lot. I remember just crawlin' around until me leg healed enough that I could wear a prosthetic. Spent a while sittin' on me arse building me leg an' not bein' able t'use it.”

“I see.” Mercy murmured as she kept scribbling. “And your arm?”

“That was a few years later.” He cracked his neck as he thought back to it. “I was… hmm..." Junkrat didn't know exactly how old he was, nor did he know the ages at which he'd lost his limbs. He felt like telling Mercy that would open a can of worms he didn't want to get into just yet, so he made up some ages that he felt were probably close to accurate. "I was prob’ly twenty one? I was... nineteen... when I lost me leg. Anyways, I was fuckin’ round in the omnium, and some a’ the wall collapsed. Nicked me arm just ‘bove me wrist. Bandaged it up and went on me way, but got real sick later.”

“Hmm. It sounds to me like you had an infection, most probably from not cleaning the wound properly. That would have led to gangrene.” Mercy frowned as she examined the stump. “But the amputation?”

“Ah.” Junkrat grimaced at the memory. “Well, once it got real bad, we all knew it was gonna have ta go. So, I paid a bloke, he got me real pissed one night, strapped me down, and used a machete t’take me arm off.”

Mercy looked shocked. “What, just alcohol? No anaesthetic?”

He shook his head. “Just grog. Hurt like a fuckin' bitch. He cauterised me stump with a hot knife and I got ta suffer until I flogged an arm off some other bloke.”

Mercy frowned at this, opened her mouth, then apparently decided she didn't want to question it, and scribbled some more things on her clipboard. “Did you not have any antibiotics?”

Junkrat rubbed his chin. “Got a needle in the arse at one stage when I lost me arm. Bluey had some stuff he nicked while in the city. Cleared me fever up.”

“Well if you’d never been exposed to antibodies I suppose it would have worked quickly.” Mercy mumbled. “Over here now, I want to see your height.”

Junkrat grumbled and shuffled over, leaning against the wall while she measured him.

“Hmm. You’re one hundred and ninety eight centimetres. Six foot six. Quite tall.” Mercy scribbled furiously for a moment. “All right, come over here. I need to weigh you without your prosthetics.”

Junkrat sniffed but obeyed, hopping over to the scale and holding onto the wall for balance.

“Seventy kilos... hmm. That’s quite a low weight for a man of your height.” She admonished. “You’re somewhat underweight. You ought to see about improving your diet.”

Junkrat folded his arms defensively. “Yeah yeah. I’ll think about it.”

Mercy gave him a severe sort of look, then motioned at the bed. “You can put your prosthetics back on now.”

Junkrat hobbled back over to the bed and set about strapping his arm on again, using his teeth to help, fully aware that Mercy was watching with a furrowed brow.

“Do you need help with that?”

“Nah, m’good.” He mumbled through a mouthful of straps, and eventually got his arm buckled in, whereupon he set about attaching his leg. “So are ya done?” he asked, drumming his fingers on his leg. “Can I go?”

“Nearly.” Mercy dug through some supplies and came up with a wicked looking needle and some vials. “I want to take some blood and run some tests. If you’ve never been to a doctor before, it’ll help me make sure you’re healthy.”

“Yeah… is that… necessary?” Junkrat squirmed in place as she advanced.

“ _Yes_.” Mercy said firmly. “Who knows what you’ve been exposed to?”

He exhaled slowly and stuck out his arm when she asked for it, fidgeting with his other hand while Mercy tightened some sort of strap around his good arm, just above the elbow, and pressed the needle into his vein. Junkrat found himself watching curiously as she filled three vials with blood, then removed the needle and pressed a cotton ball to the small wound with a very fluid, practiced move.

“All right, nearly done.” Mercy crossed the room to put the vials of blood in a fridge of some sort, then came back over with her clipboard. “Here, sign this.”

_Ah, fuck._

Thankfully, she pointed exactly where he needed to sign, and Junkrat scowled, concentrating hard as he scratched out something that had a _J_ in the front; he purposefully made it look like chicken scratch to disguise his lack of signature. As he handed the clipboard back, he started talking so he could distract Mercy.

“So am I roight t’go?” He asked, standing up. Mercy flicked her gaze over the clipboard and nodded.

“Yes, you’re fine now. I’ll let you know the results of your blood test, and you’ll need to come back at some point for immunisations. I’ll let you know when.”

Junkrat was only too happy to escape to the waiting area, where Roadhog was reading a magazine.

“C’mon.” Junkrat muttered, and Roadhog stood up.

“Done?”

“Yeah, s’all good.” He looked up at his massive bodyguard. “Whadaya gonna do now?”

“Bed.”

“Roight.” Junkrat dragged a hand through his hair as they left the medibay. “I’m gonna duck back t’the workshop real quick.”

Roadhog grunted slightly and departed down the hall towards the barracks, and Junkrat kept going towards the workshop. When he got there, he found it empty apart from Symmetra, who was sitting quietly at her desk, the tool in her hand sparking quietly as she fiddled around with the innards of one of her turrets.

Junkrat mumbled a hello as he headed to his workbench and threw himself into his chair; the moment his gaze landed on one of the half constructed bombs there he remembered what they’d all been talking about at dinner time and threw himself backwards, rolling across the workshop floor until he crashed into the edge of Symmetra’s workbench, drawing a startled noise from her throat as she jumped violently.

“Junkrat! _Bh_ _ūmi m_ _īda_ _ē-”_

Junkrat ignored what she’d said, mainly because he didn’t know _what_ she’d said, and spoke right over the top of her.

“Can y’make one of those bombs?”

Symmetra’s mouth closed with a snap and she narrowed her eyes, not saying anything. Junkrat leaned in a bit closer, snickering when she leaned back.

“C’mon, _please?_ I wanna see.”

Symmetra looked like she found his entire presence distasteful. “You are far too eager for destruction.” She said primly. “Why should I give you the means for more?”

“Ah, don’t be like that!” He wheedled. “Ya can make a dud if ya want. I just wanna see how yer hard light makes a bomb. Yer tech is bloody great. I wanna see how it works. C’mon, please?”

Symmetra pursed her lips. “You will do something to make me regret it.” She stated, and Junkrat threw his hands in the air.

“Oi, give us a fair go! Won’t break it or nuthin’.”

“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes. “If I do make it, will you remove your filthy hands from my workbench?”

Junkrat looked down to see that his hand was in fact smearing grease over the bench. “Yep.” He said immediately. “Cross me heart.”

Symmetra lifted her hands, and Junkrat’s breath caught in his throat.

“Wait.” She said, dashing all his hopes. “Do you intend to detonate it?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t object.” Junkrat tried to be smooth; from the look on her face, he wasn’t entirely sure if it had worked.

“Very well.” She said with a sigh, and turned to the folder where she kept her schematics. “If it will stop you from bothering me.” He heard her mumble, and Junkrat giggled to himself.

“Knew ya’d see reason, ‘Metra.”

“I have asked you to stop calling me that.” She reminded him as she flicked through the folder, and he shrugged.

“S’easier t’say.”

“That may be so, but it isn’t my name.” Symmetra sounded a little irritated, and it was only the thought of her refusing to craft the bomb that got him to drop it.

“Roight, whatever y’say.” Junkrat leaned back in his chair as he waited for her to find the right schematic. She studied it for a while, then sat up straight and spun blue light between her fingers. Junkrat leaned forwards at that, watching with nothing short of pure fascination as the explosive took shape between her hands. Symmetra grabbed the shell out of the air and placed it on the desk, where she pried open the side of it.

“Here.” She said, shoving the folder of schematics at him. “Read that out to me.”

Junkrat ran his eye over the words with a sinking feeling deep in his guts.

“Junkrat.” Symmetra prompted as she held a screwdriver poised and ready. “The specifications?”

“Uhh…” Junkrat pulled the folder closer and furrowed his brow. There had to be _something_ there that he understood… he pressed his tongue into his teeth and concentrated hard but… the letters he knew on their own turned into incomprehensible mush when put together.

“Junkrat.” Symmetra sounded irritated. “Are you going to read or not?”

He slowly looked up and met her gaze, feeling extremely uncomfortable, and then her eyes widened. He cursed himself; he just knew his emotions were written on his face.

“Junkrat.” She said softly, turning to face him properly. “Can you…” She paused slightly. “You cannot read, can you?”

Junkrat angrily shoved the folder onto the desk and slouched down as far as he could, tucking his arms against his chest. “Don’t look at me like that.” He muttered, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t wantcha pity.”

“Pity?”

He refused to meet her gaze.

“Junkrat… I don’t pity you.”

He still didn’t answer, huddling into a tighter ball as shame licked at him.

“Junkrat?” Symmetra reached out then, very lightly touching the tips of her fingers to the back of his hand and pulling away again when his gaze flickered up. “I apologise.” She said softly. “I would not have asked you had I known it would cause you discomfort.”

“S’okay.” He finally mumbled. “Y’didn’t know.”

Symmetra was silent for a long moment. “I assume this is a result of your upbringing?” She asked tentatively, and Junkrat glared at her, feeling embarrassed and defensive.

“Yeah, it is. M’not _stupid_ , all roight? S’the onimics. Buggered everythin’ an’… no time for learnin’ when there’s barely food t’eat.”

Symmetra nodded slowly. “I can understand that.” She lapsed into silence again. “Is this why you hide your notebooks whenever someone comes into…” She trailed off in confusion. “Wait. If you cannot read, how can you write…?”

Junkrat sighed and stood up, shuffling across the room to grab his notebook, and then quietly sank down in his chair again. He felt… extremely embarrassed and defensive, nervous about what she’d think of him now. She was intelligent and educated and he’d heard Winston say she was Vishkar’s prodigy child, and here he was, barely able to tell two letters apart.

“Here.” He muttered, flicking the notebook open to a random page and dropping it on the workbench in front of her, then hunched back into a ball as he watched her examine the pages.

“Is this…?” She began, sounding surprised as she traced her fingers over the nonsensical symbols scrawled across the pages.

“Can’t write English, so I made up me own letters t’get by.” Junkrat muttered, looking away. He could feel his face heating up, and by now he was fervently wishing he’d never asked her about the bomb. "I only need em for when I'm workin' on me designs; can get away without readin' stuff most of the time."

Symmetra carefully closed the notebook and handed it back to him. “I see.” She was quiet for a moment, and his stomach twisted up in knots.

“It’s not m’fault, okay?” He muttered, face hot, trying to defend himself. “I never got a chance t’learn…”

“Why not?” She asked, genuine concern in her tone. Or at least it sounded like it. “I was under the impression that the Australian omnium exploded some time _after_ the Omnic Crisis.”

“It did.” Junkrat scowled. “But I was only seven, and me parents died. I was on me own then. I ain’t _stupid_ , all roight? I learned me alphabet and shit like any kid woulda… it’s just… I never got t’read properly after.”

“And you haven’t told anyone else?”

Junkrat snorted. “Are y’joking? _Tell_ everyone else? Half of ya went to universities! Got degrees and fancy shit, and I’m over here barely able to spell me own fuckin’ name. Y’must think I’m a real fuckhead if y’think I’d shout it about.” He paused. “Roadie knows, but that’s it.”

Symmetra nodded. “I understand, and I apologise if I’ve caused you any discomfort.”

“Well.” Junkrat looked away. “Bit late for that, don’tcha reckon?”

“Junkrat…”

He looked up to find Symmetra watching him with a funny sort of look in her eyes. It wasn’t quite sympathetic, but… he wasn’t sure what it was.

“Yeah?” He asked hollowly. Symmetra, the prissiest, primmest, most ‘I’m-better-than-you’ woman on the whole damn team knew, and he didn’t think he’d survive if she started putting him down because of it.

“Would you…” Symmetra tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Would you be interested in learning?”

Junkrat froze. “Are you…” He had to clear his throat and try again. “…are y’offerin’?”

She nodded and crossed her legs. “If you would like a teacher, I would be happy to offer my services.”

He stared at her, quite unable to come up with a response. She was offering to _teach_ him? _Why?_ “Are… are y’serious?”

She nodded. “Quite serious. I…” Symmetra looked at the fingers of her metal hand and up again. “In India, illiteracy is a serious problem Vishkar is helping to combat. After the omnic crisis, much of our population was displaced, meaning tens of thousands were without the means of education. It would be… immoral of me to not attempt to help you if I can.”

Junkrat blinked at her. “Y’reckon... y’can help?” He asked softly, excitement bubbling up behind his lungs, but he fought to keep it tamped down unless it all came to nothing.

“I’m confident I can teach you.” Symmetra’s lips curved up slightly. “If you are willing to learn.”

Junkrat stared for a few seconds longer. “Bloody oath I’d like to learn.” He said fervently.

Her smile widened. “Good. I will message you with a time and place, and we can meet…” She paused. “Wait. That won’t work, will it?”

“Nah, y’can. Roadie reads me messages out. That’s how I get by.”

She nodded. “I see.” Symmetra looked back at the shell of the bomb. “Do you… still want this?”

The mention of explosives made him perk right up again. “Whadaya think this is, bush week? Course I do!”

Symmetra looked amused. “Bush week?” She shook her head. “You Australians have the most peculiar expressions.” She mused, and Junkrat eagerly took the subject and ran with it, keen to get away from his ability – or lack of it – to read and write.

“S’not like your Indian words are any easier.” He snickered, and she tilted her head exasperatedly.

“Telugu.” She said, fixing him with a cool look. “If you are referring to what I said before, it is called Telugu.”

Junkrat frowned. “Wait, what? I thought it was Hindi.”

Symmetra smiled. “There are several languages spoken in India. I was born in Hyderabad, and the part of the city I am from predominantly speaks Telugu, and so that is my mother tongue. When I am in Utopaea or Delhi, however, I speak Hindi. I speak Urdu as well, and then there are many in Hyderabad who speak Hyderabadi Urdu instead.” She paused slightly. “There are areas that make use of Sanskrit too, though I am not quite fluent there.”

Junkrat whistled through his teeth. “Sounds… complicated.”

She laughed quietly. “I suppose it is, yes.” Symmetra had the plans pulled towards her now as she crafted a few more components and placed them inside the bomb. “Language in India depends largely on whom you are speaking to.”

“Kinda glad ‘Straya just has English.” He muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’d be fucked otherwise.”

Symmetra just smiled at that as light flashed between her fingers, and then she pulled back, slotting the cover of the bomb into place.

“There. I’m finished.” Symmetra grabbed the schematics then. “If you plan on detonating it, the blast range will be….” She spent a minute reading through her notes and detailing the exact specifications of the explosive, and then she started packing up her tools.

“It’s late.” Symmetra neatly slid her folder back into its drawer, and turned to face him. “I ought to be going.”

Junkrat nodded, hauling the bomb into his lap alongside his notebook. “G’night then.”

“Goodnight.” She neatly pushed her chair in and walked across the room, and Junkrat watched her go, eying her legs in her neat black skirt, and then she turned at the door.

“You are willing to let me teach you?” She asked softly, and Junkrat hesitated for a moment, but nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d ‘preciate it for sure, ‘Metra.”

Symmetra inclined her head. “Meet me on the roof at two o'clock tomorrow – we ought to have some privacy there.”

Junkrat drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Yeah, I will.”

Symmetra turned to leave, but before she could, he called out.

“‘Metra?”

Symmetra titled her head slightly as she looked at him, her dark hair falling over her shoulders, and very suddenly Junkrat came to a realisation. She was a suit, but she wasn’t a _suit_.

“Thanks.” He got out, and she nodded, eyes dark.

“You are welcome.”

The door slid shut behind her, and Junkrat stared into the distance for a long moment. Symmetra was going to _help_ him. Who woulda thought it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so I really like the idea of Junkrat being mostly illiterate. If he was quite young when the outback became irradiated and he lost his parents, I doubt his reading level would have progressed any further as survival would have been a much higher priority. 
> 
> I do think he's very intelligent though, if a bit strange, and he's very good with mechanics and engineering type things, as well as basic chemistry, so he can cook up his explosives, and if he'd had the opportunity to get a decent education, he'd have gone far. 
> 
> Also, by having Satya offer to teach him to read properly, it gives me a really good way to have them spend time together~


	12. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat has his first reading lesson, and the team make a startling discovery straight from their past.

The wind tugged gently at her hair as Satya stared out over the bay. Why, exactly, was she doing this? She was actually really sitting on the roof of Overwatch, waiting for the lunatic Junker to get here so she could teach him to read. If someone had told her this three days ago she certainly wouldn’t have believed them.

The sound of the door opening alerted her to a presence, but she didn’t turn around. There was a slight pause, and then a distinctly hesitant sounding clank as Junkrat moved cautiously forwards.

Satya turned her head then. _Why am I doing this again?_ He was still streaked with the same soot and grime he’d been wearing yesterday, when she’d discovered his illiteracy.

“Junkrat.” She said in greeting, and he clanked over to sink to the ground beside her.

“’Metra.” Junkrat was fidgeting, clearly nervous, his eyes darting about as his fingers drummed on his thighs. He reminded her a little of a caged animal, seeking his escape.

“Are you all right?” Satya frowned at him. “You seem… out of sorts.”

Junkrat huffed out a slight high-pitched giggle. “Nah, I’m good. I jus’…” He looked away. “Didn’t think ya’d be here, t’be honest.”

Satya frowned at him. “Why on earth would you think that? It was my idea.”

“Yeah, I know.” Junkrat fidgeted harder. “Jus’ thought y’were being nice, that’s all. Didn’t think y’were serious.”

“I see.” Satya fixed him with a stare. “I should have thought you would know by now that I am always serious.”

Junkrat blew out his breath. “Yeah, m’gettin’ that.” He muttered.

“Well, we should begin.” Satya turned to face him more, and laid her hand on some of the supplies she’d acquired. “I brought some supplies – you said you had some basic ability, so I want to see what level of reading comprehension you have so I know where to start.”

She pulled out a printout of the alphabet.  “You said you know the alphabet?”

“Yeah, I do.” Junkrat said, sounding defensive.

“Well then. Read this out to me, please.”

“Er… okay. Um, A… B…”

Satya listened to him as he read out each letter, hesitantly at first, but then his confidence grew.

“Well done.” Satya said when he had finished. “It seems you _do_ know your letters.” She reached for the pile she’d brought with her and began to flick through it. “I did some research on how to teach an illiterate adult – the majority of guides are for teaching children, which makes things slightly more difficult. I-” She looked up when he made a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat. “Is there something the matter?”

Junkrat rubbed the back of his neck. “Er… can y’use a different word? Than illiterate, I mean. I don’t like it much. Makes me feel… stupid. Well, stupider than usual.” He forced a harsh laugh.

Satya watched him for a second as he poked self-consciously at the ground, something close to sympathy seeping through her. “Certainly I can.”

“Cheers.” Junkrat pulled his legs closer to him, his prosthetic scraping on the ground. “So. How’s this thing gonna work? Reckon it’s a bit more complicated then gettin’ me t’read the alphabet.”

“Just a little.” Satya tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted so she was leaning against the wall properly. “We will start slowly, and work our way up. First, I will see what level of reading comprehension you actually possess. From what you have told me, you can read simple things?” She phrased it as a question, and Junkrat nodded.

“Yeah, I know some words. It’s just… y’put it together in sentences and it doesn’t make sense, y’know?”

Satya nodded. “Mmm, it is something we will work on.”

His expression changed then, becoming almost… afraid. “Do… do y’think I’m real stupid because I don’t know this?” Junkrat’s voice held an edge of bitterness, and Satya contemplated things for a moment.

“Far from it.” She said at last, and the way he straightened up, eyes wide with shock, almost made her smile. “Literacy is not the only measure of intelligence. If you were truly unintelligent you could not have such an intimate knowledge of explosives as you do. Your intelligence lies in practical applications, not academia, but that doesn’t make it any less valid. Furthermore, you have created _your own form_ of writing. From a linguistic perspective, that is simply _fascinating_ , and would certainly indicate intelligence, not stupidity.”

Junkrat simply stared at her for a long while, bright vivid eyes wide. “Th–that’s the single nicest thing anyone’s ever said t’me.”

That stirred a feeling of empathy in her, and all of a sudden Satya could see him as a grubby little boy struggling to survive in the harshness of the radioactive outback without his parents. What must it have been like? Her mind tried to fill in the blanks of his childhood with images of her own, but she knew that the slums of Hyderabad were vastly different to the outback. She wanted to ask him how he had survived, but the question stuck on the tip of her tongue.

“Well.” She said quietly. “If you stick with your lessons, you will receive more compliments, won’t you?”

“Yeah.” Junkrat sounded cheerful now, though he was looking at her very oddly, sort of… _intently_. “Yeah, yer roight, I reckon.”

Satya had to supress her imagination as images of him as a young child, happy and content, sprung up in her mind unbidden. How had the world failed him that badly?

She pushed her hair back and looked away from his piercing eyes. “Good. Then let us continue.”

They spent close to two hours perched up on the roof, tucked in against the alcove there out of the wind, while they went over the basics – how the different letters were pronounced in different words. Junkrat proved to be an attentive if often distracted student, but Satya could tell that he genuinely wanted to learn.

The biggest problem now, was that if she continued teaching him, it meant that she had to actually spend time with him, much more time than she had ever planned. He was loud and filthy and violent, and far outside the circle of people whom she allowed herself to be acquainted with. But if she changed her mind and did decide not to teach him anymore, he’d most probably be very disappointed. Satya bit her tongue hard – she knew what it was like to not have the opportunity to learn, to better oneself, and she decided with a small sigh that she couldn’t take that chance away from anyone; even a filthy irradiated Junker.

 

* * *

 

Time passed and the hours turned into days, which segued into over two weeks of prolonged contact with Junkrat in between missions. She’d had a small reprieve when he, Roadhog and McCree had been sent on a demolition run to a small, lightly defended Talon trading outpost. From what she’d heard in the debriefing once they’d returned, Roadhog and McCree had gone in and distracted the Talon operatives, while Junkrat did what he did best and brought the entire building down. That had been two days ago, and Junkrat was still ecstatic over the fact that he was being _paid_ to blow things up. Yesterday, he’d asked for another lesson, and so here she was, on her way up to the roof, balancing her satchel of books, a box of treats, and the thermos of steaming hot tea she carried.

Waiting for the voice recognition to unlock the door, she swung it open with her hip and managed to get through without spilling anything.

“G’day!” Came Junkrat’s cheerful voice. “Need a hand?”

“Yes, thank you.” Satya waited for him to lope over, his gait uneven as his metal leg clanked on the ground. “The tea, please – I’m going to drop it.”

Junkrat grabbed the thermos and followed her back over to the spot where he’d been sitting and waiting, tucked up out of the elements. The breeze caught at her hair as she sat down, smoothing her skirt out neatly, before she arranged the books and small box she had brought before her.

“Soooo.” Junkrat reached eagerly for the box. “What didja bring me today?”

Satya swatted his hand away. “Nothing, if you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

Junkrat giggled and rocked backwards, stretching slightly. Satya noted with approval that he hadn’t managed to get especially filthy in the days following his last bath, where Mercy had put her foot down and refused him dinner unless he bathed. Junkrat had complied, but he’d complained the whole time. His freckles were visible at the moment, highlighted by the sun that beamed down on them and warmed the air.

“But what is it?” He asked again, undeterred.

“It is a surprise.” Satya pushed her hair back behind her ear. “If you can show me some improvement from your last lesson, you can have them. If not, _I’m_ going to eat them.”

Junkrat stared, eyes wide, excitement written over his features. She’d long since learned that he had a much higher chance of retaining the things she taught him if she bribed him with sweet things. “But what is it?” He almost whined.

Satya took a moment to conceal her smile, and picked up the box. “I found them in a tiny café when I was in town with Doctor Ziegler yesterday.” Lifting the lid of the box, her smile crept onto her face unbidden at the look of awe on Junkrat’s face when he saw the lamingtons inside.

“Lamingtons! Bloody hell, haven’t had those in years!” He reached for them but Satya quickly snapped the lid shut.

“Proper, _home-made_ lamingtons.” She elaborated, amused by the look on his face. “With cream in the middle.”

“C’mon ‘Metra! Don’t be cruel.”

“Not yet. You have to impress me first.”

Junkrat pouted comically, and Satya ended up smiling again. When she had initially begun to teach him to read, she’d prepared herself to end up mentally exhausted from dealing with him on a daily basis, but as it turned out… Junkrat wasn’t _that_ bad. He was loud and messy, more often than not covered in dirt and soot, and got distracted easily, but he could be funny and sometimes surprisingly insightful. Oftentimes, his lessons turned into deeply involved discussions of the mechanics of their various creations, and she’d had to stop him from demonstrating a new explosive more than once.

“Come on.” Satya handed him a book; it had been difficult to find reading materials for him as he progressed with regards to his reading ability.  She needed to find things for him to read without embarrassing him, but the vast majority of books available for his reading level were the kind of books written for children. She’d brought this up once, but to her surprise, Junkrat had been more than enthusiastic about revisiting what little childhood he still remembered, and so children’s books it was. His current favourite was Dr Seuss – he’d mentioned once that he remembered his mother reading those books to him, but then he’d clammed up about it, so Satya hadn’t asked any more questions.

Junkrat grabbed a book from the top of the pile and flicked it open, a deep furrow between his brows as he concentrated, and Satya formed two hard light tea cups then poured some steaming hot tea into each of them. It was technically far too hot for summer, but an interesting bonding moment had come when they’d each discovered a love of hot tea regardless of the weather. Junkrat had a massive sweet tooth and was often found with sweet drinks somewhere on his person, but the only real drink available in the outback had been plain black tea, and he was fond of it. Satya favoured Nilgiri tea, and they sometimes swapped teas in order to sample the other.

“Roighto, let’s see…” He muttered, before beginning. His pronunciation was hesitant and slow, and he often tripped over words, but as she frequently reminded him, it still meant that he _could_ read them, no matter how bad he thought he was at it.

“And… then… the…” Junkrat was sounding things out carefully, and then his head shot up as he turned to look at her. “Oi! guess what?”

Satya raised a brow, annoyed that he’d interrupted himself. “What?”

“Figured out what that sign in the workshop says.” Junkrat sounded extremely proud of himself. “Spent bloody ages starin’ at it yesterday, but I got it. Says ‘Danger: Hazard Area.’ Or somethin’.”

Satya thought for a moment. “You mean the one hanging over Torbjörn’s forge?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

He was right; the sign did say that. Satya opened the box of lamingtons and handed him one. “Well done.”

Junkrat stuffed the whole thing in his mouth at once and leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, a blissful look on his face. “Cheers.” He mumbled through the mouthful of sponge and cream, and Satya sighed slightly. He was so _messy_.

“Christ, these are good.” Junkrat licked his fingers clean of chocolate and crumbs, making her grimace, and then he reached for the box. Satya swatted his hand away and handed him the book instead.

“The sooner you read this, the sooner you get more.” She wiggled the box to emphasise her point, enjoying the look on Junkrat’s face as he licked his lips hungrily.

“You are making excellent progress, you know.” Satya said after he’d managed to get through the entire book. “More so than I had anticipated.”

Junkrat giggled and grinned, revealing his gold teeth. “Cheers, love.” He sounded quite proud of himself, and then he leaned forwards. “Maybe now you’ll tell me why y’agreed t’help me?”

Satya pursed her lips and looked away, but Junkrat persisted, leaning in closer. He kept springing this question on her in the hopes that she would answer, but so far, she hadn’t. Not really.

“C’mon, Symmetra.” He said, no doubt using her full name to put her in a better mood. “Why won’t y’tell me?”

Satya looked down at her hands for a moment, her gaze gliding over the shiny white plates of her metal hand, reminding her as it always did of her employers.

“Hmm. If I did, you would have to swear to me you would never tell another soul.”

Satya snuck at peek at him, and Junkrat was staring at her confusedly.

“Why’s it such a secret?” He asked, rubbing a hand through his hair and making it even messier than before.

Satya sighed. “Because you are not the only one who knows what it is like to be illiterate.”

There was a shocked silence.

“Nah.” Junkrat shook his head. “No way. _Bullshit_. Yer too smart! Y’couldn’t be.”

“You flatter me.” Satya turned to face him then. “You know I grew up in India.” She began, and when he nodded, she continued. “What you don’t know is that I grew up in Hyderabad. Specifically, in the slums.”

Junkrat’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything.

“You asked me once why I am so loyal to Vishkar.” Satya pushed her hair back behind her ear. “I said some nonsense about their principles being my own, and you accepted that, and for the most part it is true. However, that is… not the whole story.”

Satya paused and bit her lip. She _couldn’t_ be serious right now. She couldn’t actually be considering telling _Junkrat_ , of all people, about her past.

Junkrat curled in on his lanky self, catching her attention as he drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees. He looked, in short, like a sooty, oddly shaped pretzel as he waited for her to continue.

“My family was... not well off.” Satya stared fixedly at her fingers. “At the time, India was still reeling from the omnic crisis. Much of the population had been displaced, and what precious little schooling there was still available was strictly for the upper classes. I was expected to help my mother with her duties, and so I was largely uneducated.”

“So… didja learn later, or…?” Junkrat sounded confused.

“Not quite. When I was eight, my mother managed to get me to a small schoolyard that had been set up. There were no proper teachers and I learned practically nothing, but one day, I was discovered.”

Junkrat scooted closer, looking thoroughly invested in the story. “Discovered? By who?”

“Vishkar.” Satya managed a wry smile. “At the time, they were expanding in the wake of the omnic crisis, and were seeking applicants for the academy. They would often search for children and teenagers who fit the requirements. I was uneducated, yes, but I fit the specifications required to train as an architech.”

“So y’went with em?”

Satya nodded. “Eventually. Two men arrived at home one day and spoke to my parents. I didn’t realise what was happening, but they told my mother I’d have a better life if I went with them. So… my parents agreed.”

“Wait.” Junkrat lifted a finger. “Y’didn’t realise what was happening? How old were y’again?”

“Eight.” Satya combed her fingers through her hair as a distraction. “They came back a week later, and my mother had already packed me a bag. My parents said goodbye and told me to make them proud, and…” She swallowed hard. “I never saw them again.”

Junkrat’s body jerked slightly in response to this. “Well that’s bloody typical. Damn suits.” He paused then. “Never?”

“It’s been twenty years since I went with Vishkar.” Satya took a deep breath and turned to face him, mask firmly in place. “So no. Never.”

“If they took ya away from y'parents, why stay with 'em? Seems like they’re rotten t’me.” Junkrat straightened up somewhat, frowning as he gesticulated.

“You do not understand.” Satya paused, looking for the right words. “They took me away from my family, yes, but it was for the better. They _saved_ me; where would I be otherwise? Uneducated, poor, living on the streets? I thank the gods everyday that Vishkar saw something in me.”

“But-”

“No buts.” She snapped, harsher than she’d intended. “Vishkar wants to right the world. Illiteracy and poverty are one of those wrongs that I can help combat, by the very position that they gave to me.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No, you do not understand.” Satya leaned closer. “ _I owe Vishkar my life_. Were it not for them, I would not be sitting here speaking to you. I would not have done anything of worth, I would not be able to – to…” She realised she was getting too worked up over things, so she pulled back and stopped talking, looking out over the ocean again. Satya could smell the salt, the vibrant sun warming her skin where she sat and watched two seagulls chase each other through the air.

Junkrat was quiet for a moment, which she appreciated.

“All roight.” He said at last. “‘S yer life, I ain’t gonna judge ya.”

Relief swamped her. “Thank you.” Satya paused slightly, wondering if she should continue. “That is why I am helping you.” She said quietly. “I know what it is like to not have opportunities, and I feel it would be hypocritical of me not to offer aid where I can.”

She looked up at Junkrat then, who had tilted his head as he watched her. “Yer nicer then ya let on, y’know.” He said slowly, and Satya felt her lips curve in a slight grin. It wasn’t too often that people called her kind.

“I am here as a representative of Vishkar, you know. I cannot be too casual.”

Junkrat snickered and leaned back, taking a sip of his tea. “Can’t picture ya as casual.”

Satya’s smile slipped then. “Neither can I.” Sensing that Junkrat was eyeing her strangely, she reached for the book again. Come on, we must continue.”

The next part of the lesson was where she would take a book and read it aloud, so Junkrat could follow along as she did so, matching pronunciation to the written words.

The most alarming thing about him was how _close_ he would sit to her, like now; Junkrat had scooted over to be able to read the words as she did, and she could actually feel his body heat warming her side – either he had no concept of personal space, or he held a furnace somewhere inside his chest. Satya rather suspected that both were true. Junkrat was practically leaning over her shoulder, lips moving as he mouthed the words in time to hers.

“Wait, what’s that one?” He asked, pointing, and Satya doubled back a bit, enunciating slowly and waiting for Junkrat to repeat it, so he could plant it firmly in his memory. The rest of the book went in a similar fashion; she would read for a bit, and then Junkrat would ask her to repeat certain words or clarify where she was up to, and then they would continue.

Halfway through the book, however, she began to get a little annoyed. She’d forgotten to take Junkrat’s pretzel tendencies into account, meaning he’d scrunched himself down into a ball so he could read over her shoulder, so close his breath was warming her ear as he followed along intently.

“Do you mind?”

“Eh?”

Satya could see the exact moment Junkrat lost his place in the book, pulling back slightly, his eyes sliding over to hers as he rubbed his neck, looking confused.

She sighed slightly. “Never mind.”

Confusion radiated off him as she turned back to the book, and then their phones both beeped in unison. Pulling the sleek device from her pocket, Satya read the message swiftly; it was from Winston, calling a briefing in ten minutes.

“Well.” She said, turning to look at the Junker as he frowned at his phone. “That wraps this lesson up.”

“Stupid bloody timing.” Junkrat muttered, scowling, and Satya began to gather up the books. She pulled one lamington from the box for herself and handed the rest over.

“Here. Finish these off before we go down.”

Junkrat’s eyes lit up as he grabbed the box and beheld the three small cakes still inside. He stuffed one into his mouth and let out a theatrical moan of pleasure. Satya shook her head in mock exasperation as she gathered up her books and tucked them into her satchel. Standing up with satchel and thermos in hand, Satya waited for Junkrat to pull himself to his feet, his mouth still full of lamington. She took a small bite of her own treat, and found herself thoroughly enjoying it – lamingtons were proving to be quite pleasant little snacks.

“Same time tomorrow?” Junkrat mumbled through a mouthful of cake, and Satya hesitated.

“Hmm… we do not know what Winston wants. There might be something happening tomorrow… I will text you if we have time for it.”

He nodded. “Roight, fair enough.”

Junkrat left her to find Roadhog at the base of the stairs, and Satya quickly swung by the workshop to stash her books and thermos at her desk, before she smoothed down her uniform and made her way to the conference room, where the briefings were held. She got there just as McCree did, who held the door open for her with a drawled greeting. Satya acknowledged his presence and went inside, finding a seat beside Mercy, who smiled in greeting.

“Do you know what is this about?” Satya asked the doctor in an undertone.

“I’m not sure.” Mercy admitted. “I think Winston’s discovered something.”

“So we are not being dispatched on a mission?” Satya frowned as she considered things; what had Winston found out?

“I don’t think so, no.” Mercy murmured back. “I could be wrong, though.”

Winston cleared his throat as Reinhardt, the last to arrive, entered the room and sat down.

“Thank you for your prompt arrival, everyone.” The gorilla rumbled. “I have some… interesting news.”

Satya sat up straighter in interest as security footage began to play on the wall behind Winston.

“As you can see…” He began, waving towards the figures locked in battle on the screen. “Something rather interesting happened in Giza yesterday.”

Satya frowned – the place looked like some kind of security compound, and fighting on the screen were three figures, though blurry and out of focus. The feed abruptly switched to a second camera then, and all throughout the room gasps were heard. McCree shot to his feet and swore, while Mercy clapped a hand over her mouth. Reinhardt bellowed something in German, and Torbjörn muttered something quietly, eyes wide as saucers.

“Is that..?” Mercy asked, pain in her voice. “It _can’t_ be.”

“It is.” Winston said grimly, and paused the tape at a clear shot of the one woman in the fight. Satya frowned and stared, trying to surmise who the woman was – she had white hair and looked to be wearing some sort of eye patch, and her weapon of choice appeared to be a sniper rifle.

“Who?” Hana asked, sounding annoyed at being left out. “Who is it?”

“Ana Amari.” McCree sounded utterly stupefied. “Ana _goddamn_ Amari.”

“But she’s dead.” Mercy whispered. “She _died_.”

“Apparently, she didn’t.” Winston unpaused the security feed, and Satya frowned at the screen as the woman – this Ana Amari – tackled a man in long black robes and ripped off his mask, tossing it to the side. From the angle, they couldn’t see his face, but she surmised it wasn’t good as Amari gasped and recoiled. There was no sound to go with the footage, so they didn’t know what was being said, but a moment later the man shoved her aside and disappeared into black vapour.

“What the fuck is that?” McCree asked blankly.

“I believe this is the entity known as ‘Reaper’.” Winston said, pausing the feed again. “According to our admittedly limited intel, he is affiliated with Talon.”

Satya turned towards Mercy, intending to make a small remark, but the look on the older woman’s face stopped her. Mercy was white as a ghost, eyes huge, terror painted on her expression as her nails dug into her thighs. Satya frowned, noting the direction of her gaze; Mercy was staring at the spot where Reaper had vanished.

“That son of a bitch just up and evaporated. Th’fuck.” McCree paused to slip a cigarillo into his mouth. “And the other fella? Do we know ‘im?”

“That would be Soldier: 76.” Winston said. “We’ve been tracking him for a while, and we had reports that he was in Egypt, but it wasn’t confirmed until today.”

Soldier: 76? Satya refocused on the screen, taking in the grey hair, the visor that obscured his face, the jacket with ‘76’ emblazoned on the back. So this was the vigilante that was currently the subject of an international manhunt, taking down terrorists and breaking into government facilities seemingly at random.

“That’s not all.” Winston said, voice grim. “Keep watching.”

He unpaused the feed, and they all watched as Amari walked over to the vigilante on the ground and appeared to enter into conversation with him.

“Does she _know_ him?” Hanzo inquired. “It looks as if she does.”

“How would Ana know him?” Reinhardt boomed, waving his massive hands.

On the security feed, Soldier: 76 reached up and pulled his visor away from his face, and for the second time in twenty minutes, gasps echoed around the conference room.

“ _Bullshit!”_ McCree yelled, and then he immediately stalked outside. The others made similar noises of shock, and Satya stared confusedly. The man on the screen had grey hair, blue eyes and large scars across his face, but he didn’t look familiar to her.

From the corner, there came a sigh of disgust. “Roight, I’ll bite.” Said Junkrat, waving his metal hand at the screen. “Who’s this bloke?”

“Jack.” Mercy whispered. “Its Jack Morrison.” She sounded utterly befuddled, and Satya refocused on the screen.

“Jack Morrison? Was he not the leader of Overwatch?” She inquired; hopefully her recollections were correct.

Winston nodded. “He was, years ago. He was also _dead_ , or so we thought.”

“I can’t fuckin’ believe this.” McCree blustered as he barged through the door. “Can’t _fuckin’_ believe this. Two ghosts come back to life in one day! What th’ _fuck_.”

Winston took off his glasses to polish the screen for a moment. “I know.” His voice was tired. “I’ve contacted Fareeha to see if she can shed any light on Ana – as far as I knew, I thought even she thought her mother was dead.”

“And? What did she say?” Asked Torbjörn.

“She hasn’t replied yet, but I will alert you all when she does.” The gorilla put his glasses back on. “So Jack and Ana are alive – is there anyone who objects to actively tracking them down?”

“We don’t know where they are?” Lúcio asked, leaning forwards.

“Unfortunately, once they left the compound we lost track of them.” Winston admitted. “As of right now, all we have is this security footage to prove that they are alive. I’m proposing that we divert some of our attention into finding them and getting some answers. Ana clearly saw something when she pulled off Reaper’s mask; we need their intel.”

“‘Course we gotta find ‘em.” Said McCree tersely. “Right this fuckin’ minute.”

“Does everyone else agree?” Winston cast his gaze about the room, looking for dissenters. Satya bit her lip but stayed quiet; she didn’t like the thought of blindly agreeing to this sort of thing but she didn’t know enough about Amari or Morrison to make any judgement. The second she got back to her room, she resolved to start digging for information of her own. When no one objected, Winston nodded.

“All right then. From tomorrow, we start looking for our ghosts.”


	13. Maybe You're Not the Worst Thing Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team gets in contact with Fareeha Amari and find some interesting tidbits about their missing ghosts, and Junkrat and Symmetra have a moment without either of them realising it.

Junkrat wandered down the hall, hands in his pockets. It seemed the whole base was in confusion over what had been revealed yesterday. He still didn’t really know who Amari and 76 were, so it wasn’t really any skin off his nose. He, Hanzo, Hana, Lúcio and Roadhog were the only ones currently not digging madly for clues as to the old Overwatch member’s whereabouts.

He’d just left Hana and Lúcio in the rec room, where they were getting into a rowdy competition over one of Hana’s games, and was now in search of Roadie, who was probably in his room or the gym or something. Might even be in the workshop working on scrap to load his gun with. Junkrat checked a few places and came up empty, so he headed down towards the barracks where he soon reached Hog’s room, and pressed the intercom button.

“Oi Hog, ya in there?” He inquired, and there was silence for a moment or two before the door hissed open and Roadhog stepped back to allow him entry.

“What’s happenin’?” He grunted, and Junkrat shrugged and rolled his shoulders.

“Dunno, really. McCree’s crackin’ a darkie an’ the rest of em are knee deep in security footage. Don’t think they’ve figured out where 76 and Amari went after. Whatcha doin’?”

“Readin’.” Roadhog held up his novel and sank back down on his bed, causing it to groan slightly.

“Yeah? Good book?” Junkrat sat down on the chair and began to spin himself round in circles.

“Decent.” Hog replied, turning the page. “Whadaya gonna do now?”

“Dunno.” Junkrat scratched at his chin. “Nothin’ much interestin’ goin’ on besides huntin’ for Amari an’ Morrison, so I might head back t’the workshop later.”

“No lesson today then?”

“Nah.” Junkrat frowned at the ceiling and let himself flop off the chair and onto the floor, lying on his back. “‘Metra’s helpin’ the others look for Amari an’ 76. Said she’s too busy today.”

“Shame.”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ pissed. Got interrupted yesterday, and now I gotta skip today.” Junkrat folded his arms and grumbled slightly, but as his thoughts focused on Symmetra, he frowned.

“Why d’ya think she’s helpin’ me?” He asked, shifting restlessly. It was a question he’d asked many times, but he still couldn’t get his head around it.

“Beats me.” Roadhog replied, and Junkrat scowled.

“Fuck off.”

“Y’asked.”

Junkrat glowered at the ceiling as Roadhog continued.

“Said she wants t’help people, don’t she?”

“Yeah.” Junkrat rubbed at his jaw. “But she doesn’t like me. Thinks I’m savage or somethin’.” A snicker worked its way up and out of his throat. “Thinks I’m dirty.”

“ _Y’are_ filthy.”

“I know! But that ain’t the _point_.” Junkrat blew out a breath. “Brings me cakes and stuff, y’know. Doesn’t have to though.”

Roadhog let out a chuckle. “She’s _distractin’_ ya, y’dopey ponce. Y’can’t keep yammerin’ on with yer gob full.”

Junkrat blinked. “Fair point.” His gaze slid towards the bed, and from his angle on the floor, he could see Roadhog’s elbow and not much more. “Whadaya think of her?”

“Stuck up.” Roadhog paused, then continued. “Smart though. Nice legs, too.”

“Yeah.” Junkrat nodded in agreement. “ _Real_ nice.” A giggle escaped his lips. “Not like any of the sheilas back home!”

Roadhog huffed a laugh. “Cleaner, that’s f’sure. They all are.”

Junkrat laughed. “Bloody oath! All fuckin’ spotless.” He lifted his mechanical hand and examined the grease smeared across the joints, poking at the hard light components Symmetra had made for him. They were holding up marvellously well – almost _too_ well. He was used to the very subtle grind of metal whenever the joints moved, but the hard light bits were almost entirely silent, dulling the sound. It was a little strange, if he had to be honest, but he was still pleased he hadn’t needed to reforge all the fiddly little bits himself.

He talked until Roadhog simply stopped replying, as he was occasionally wont to do. Junkrat wasn’t offended by it; it never took Hog long to run out of words. He switched to muttering to himself then, running over some new designs he’d been working on, sketching them out in the air with his hands.

At that moment, his phone beeped. Fishing it out of his pocket, Junkrat checked the screen and frowned at the message. He got some of it, but wasn’t sure about this one particular word… he pushed himself to his knees and leaned on the bed.

“Oi Hog.”

Roadhog looked up from his own phone to glance at Junkrat’s as he offered to him, and grunted.

“Meeting now.” Roadhog heaved himself up off the bed, marking the page in his book and setting it on his nightstand. “They must have found somethin’.”

Junkrat scrambled to his feet. “Ooh, wonder what!”

He darted out the door and waited for Roadhog to catch up as the Junker made his way down the corridor, moving sedately. When they reached the conference room, they found the screens set up again, which to Junkrat implied that more footage had been found.

When everyone had entered the room and sat down, Winston spoke.

“I’ve been in contact with Fareeha-” He began, but McCree cut him off.

“The hell’d she say? She got an explanation?”

Junkrat absently wondered why McCree was so worked up over this – he must have been close to Amari and Morrison.

“She does, but she hasn’t told me what yet.” Winston said, and then he motioned at the screens behind him. “We’ve set up a call that should go through in-” he checked the time. “-four minutes, so you can ask her then.”

Junkrat groaned to himself in impatience and pulled a half finished grenade out of his pocket and began fiddling with it. Roadhog pulled out his book and started reading, and most of the other agents gathered around the table chatted to one another about Fareeha. Whoever she was.

Junkrat racked his brains to see if he’d heard of her before, and decided that he hadn’t. How did she know Amari and Morrison? He had no idea. Maybe she’d worked with them before they ‘died’. Maybe she was in the government. Maybe she was a _suit_. Junkrat’s lip curled involuntarily at the thought.

“So hang on a tick.” He asked no one in particular, lifting a finger. “Who is this sheila?”

“Fareeha Amari.” Mercy explained. “She’s Ana’s daughter. She went into the Egyptian military after Overwatch disbanded, and she’s now working with Helix Security under the name of Pharah.”

Junkrat nodded his thanks for the explanation while he turned this over in his mind. She had a second name – Pharah. That made him feel imminently more comfortable about discussing her. But she was Amari-the-Ghost’s daughter? And she was military? All he could picture was a real hardarse kinda woman, and there was the vague, niggling suspicion at the back of his mind that he’d heard of Helix Security before.

When the call came through at last, Junkrat looked up to see a rather severe looking woman with dark hair and a tattoo beneath her eye.

“Hello Winston.” The woman said wryly. “Long time no see.”

“Fareeha. Nice to see you again.” Winston replied, and the woman peered around the room.

“Angela.” She said, sounding pleased. “Lovely to see you. Reinhardt, you haven’t aged a day!”

The knight roared with laughter and slapped his knee as he replied, and the woman – Pharah – went around the room greeting everyone she already knew.

“But there are a few people that I don’t know here.” She finally said, and as it applied to him, Junkrat looked up from his grenade as Pharah’s gaze slid from him to Roadhog, then across to Lúcio and Hana before moving to Symmetra and Hanzo on the other side of the room.

“We’ve been recruiting new agents.” Winston took off his glasses to polish them before sliding them back onto his face. “Let me introduce you. We now have Hana Song, from South Korea and Lúcio Correia dos Santos, from Brazil, who are in line to become official Overwatch agents just as soon as I can get the Petras Act sorted out. Hanzo Shimada is Genji’s brother, and Symmetra is our Vishkar dignitary, sent to oversee relations with us, seeing as Vishkar is currently helping to fund the recall.”

“Vishkar is funding you? How does that work?” Pharah asked sharply, and Junkrat studied her face and accent. She was Egyptian? He wondered if he’d ever met any other Egyptians. Somehow, he doubted it.

“Vishkar has been following the resurgence of the Omnics in Eastern Europe.” Symmetra said smoothly in response to Pharah’s question. “And what we can see is… worrying. We are committed to the betterment of mankind-” Here she was interrupted by Lúcio snorting loudly, but she ignored him and continued, much to Junkrat’s amusement. “-and not only that, we happen to have large holdings in at risk areas. It was deemed beneficial to not just our company but the world at large if we provided funding and aid. I am here as an extension of Vishkar’s good will, and to act as a contact for Overwatch if anything more is required of our company.”

“In return for what?” Pharah asked, brows drawn together with what looked like suspicion. Junkrat instinctively looked across at Symmetra – that was exactly the kind of question she would hate.

He was right – Symmetra’s accented tone was decidedly frosty when she replied.

“Vishkar is a multinational corporation, one with holdings in most of the world’s countries. It makes sense that we would wish to seek out information regarding Overwatch’s possible return to the world stage.”

“You mean you have too many fingers in too many pies and you don’t want anyone interfering.” Lúcio’s tone was dark and argumentative, and Junkrat grinned and elbowed Roadhog – it was always funny to see him go up against Symmetra.

For her part, Symmetra looked utterly sick of the DJ – the expression she flicked him was something akin to the look one would give to something slimy on the bottom of their shoe.

“Your analogy is crude, yet rather apt.” She said, crossing her legs neatly. “Vishkar has many holdings and exerts quite a bit of influence – wouldn’t you say it is within our rights to wish to protect that?”

Lucio scowled. “So you’re paying Overwatch to do that for you?”

“We are doing nothing of the kind.” Symmetra’s voice was patient, though her words now had taken on a very condescending tone, as if she were speaking to a very small and stupid child. “Vishkar has simply seen the _mutual_ benefits that come from pursuing an alliance with Overwatch.”

Lúcio rolled his eyes. “In other words, you wouldn’t have done it if-”

“Enough.” Symmetra recrossed her legs and looked away. “We are not here to argue about Vishkar.”

Junkrat snickered to himself – Lúcio _hated_ it when Symmetra cut him off and ignored him; she did it all the time, and it drove the DJ nuts. Lúcio bristled.

“Hang on a minute.” He spat. “You’re-”

Clearly deciding to break up the argument, Winston waded in. “ _Lúcio_. We are grateful to Vishkar.” He said with a hard look at Lúcio. “Without their financial support, we’d not be nearly as well equipped as we are. We owe quite a bit to them.”

Symmetra inclined her head, but Junkrat could see the twist at the corner of her mouth as she suppressed a victorious smile. Lúcio slouched down into his chair, mumbling mutinously under his breath.

“I see you have some internal conflict happening.” Pharah said dryly, drawing their attention back to the screen. Junkrat was amused to see Symmetra frown and rearrange her hair. She looked so _cold_ , so severe – the contrast between how she was with Lúcio and how she was at their lessons was almost startling.

“How ‘bout we get a move on, and get to the bit where you tell us what’s goin’ on with Ana an’ Jack?” McCree drawled then, and Winston nodded.

“Yes, let’s. Fareeha?”

The woman on the screen cast her eyes down, tucking her hair behind her ear and then lifting a letter into view.

“My mother is alive.” She said quietly. “I thought she was dead, just the same as all of you, and then about a month ago, she sent me a letter.”

“A _month!?”_ McCree leaned forwards and waved his cigarillo accusingly. “Th’ hell didn’t you tell us?”

Pharah looked defensive. “I needed some time to come to terms with it myself.” She snapped. “Not only that, but we were still dealing with the aftermath of the Anubis AI.”

Junkrat racked his brains but came up with nothing. _What the bloody hell is the Anubis AI?_ Thankfully, Hana asked that same question.

“The Anubis AI was one of the ‘God programs’ that Overwatch quarantined after the initial Omnic Crisis.” Pharah began. “The AI had the ability to take over other operating systems, and it began to breach its containment. This happened nearly two months ago – my squad was sent in to assess the situation, and we very quickly realised that the AI needed to be manually shut down, or it might have broken through the firewalls and taken over all of the drones, omnics and equipment within range. It would have been capable of corrupting important infrastructure and launching military assaults on human habitation zones.” A shadow crossed her face then. “We shut it down, but we lost good men in the process. Including our captain.”

 _This sheila destroyed an omnic AI?_ All of a sudden, Junkrat found himself liking Pharah much more than he had before.

“It was a huge mess.” Pharah continued heavily. “We’ve had a lot of work to do, ensuring that the AI was completely eradicated, making sure no other bots under its control escaped… it’s been all hands on deck for a very frenzied few weeks. Then, I get a letter from Mom saying that she’s not dead, and that she’s off hunting down Talon agents, and you wonder why I haven’t been in contact.” Pharah’s voice was icy, but then she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I am sorry. I ought to have let you all know. It’s just that I’ve been under a good deal of stress…”

“It’s fine, Fareeha.” Winston said, reshuffling some papers around. “We are trying to get in contact with Ana, however. Do you…?”

“I don’t.” Pharah scanned the letter in her hands. “Mom didn’t let me know where she was, where she’s going, or how to reach her. She just let me know she’s alive, basically, and that she can’t sit on the sidelines anymore.”

“So do we think she stayed with Jack?” Mercy asked, and Winston and Pharah both shrugged.

“I reviewed the footage you sent me.” Pharah said. “It’s a shame there was no audio to go with it. I want to know what Mom said when she pulled off Reaper’s mask. It was almost like she knew him.”

“Which is part of the reason why we want to find her and Jack so badly.” Winston said. “Jack has been breaking into every government building and then some as 76, and they both must have information that can help us. We need to find them.”

“It will be hard.” Pharah mused. “There’s a reason they were calling Mom ‘Ghost’. I’d received reports about her myself, with no idea that it was her. And as for Jack… the UN has been after 76 for months now. They’re both good at covering their tracks.”

“But we all _know_ ‘em.” McCree reminded them. “Worked with ‘em. Know their styles. We can find ‘em.”

“Don’t be _too_ confident, Jesse.” Pharah said wryly. “Mom might take that as a challenge.”

Reinhardt and Torbjörn snickered to themselves at that, and having grown rather bored with the conversation, Junkrat leaned back in his chair, fiddling with his grenade.

“You didn’t introduce your other recruits.” Pharah said, nodding in his direction, and Junkrat’s gaze flicked up to meet hers. There was suspicion lurking in her eyes, and he frowned.

“Ah, so I didn’t.” Winston turned around to see them. “Junkrat and Roadhog are our Australian mercenaries. Junkrat in particular is our new demolitions expert.”

Junkrat preened at the title, but then his grin slipped when Pharah’s gaze hardened.

“I thought I recognised them.” She said, and Junkrat’s fingers paused on the grenade.

“We’ve met?” He inquired, thinking hard; he didn’t _think_ he knew her. He turned to Roadhog. “Have we met her?”

Roadhog shook his head at the same time Pharah did.

“Not personally.” Her words were clipped now. Business like. “But I recognise you both from your rap sheets.” She turned to Winston. “Why have you hired wanted criminals?”

 _Ooh, now things are gonna get interesting._ Junkrat watched eagerly as Winston sighed. Beside him, Roadhog sat silently.

“At the time of the initial recall, I was fairly desperate for manpower.” The gorilla rubbed at his temple. “They might have… unsavoury pasts, but they were mercenaries for hire, and we needed that. Junkrat’s talent for destruction has been very useful to us. They both have.”

“Does the UN know you’ve hired them?”

Junkrat giggled gleefully as Winston sighed.

“…No. No, they don’t.”

“They’re _criminals_ , Winston. Wanted for murder, arson, theft…”

“Yer gonna be there a while if you list _all_ me charges off.” Junkrat interjected with a snigger. “‘Sides, didn’t think we was the only ones here with a bounty.” He finished this off with a pointed look at McCree, who nodded and shrugged in a ‘what-can-you-do’ gesture.

“He’s got you there.” The cowboy drawled, and Junkrat continued to turn his grenade in his hands.

“But how can you know they won’t betray you for the highest bidder?”

Junkrat narrowed his eyes at Pharah, who was very rapidly losing his good opinion. _What, doesn’t she like mercenaries?_ The thought was enough to make him laugh. “Fact o’the matter is, we like it here, don’t we Hog?” He elbowed Roadhog, who grunted and nodded. “Got proper beds an’ clean water. Never stayed in one place so long either. Food’s good an’ pay’s better, and we ain’t gonna leave just yet.”

 _“Yet?”_ Pharah seemed unimpressed. “So you do plan to leave.”

Junkrat scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Y’said it yerself. We’re mercenaries. Hired help. That don’t last forever, y’know. We know yer gonna stop payin’ us at some point.” He addressed this to Winston. “An’ when y’do, we’re gonna take off.” He eyed Pharah thoughtfully. “How’ve y’seen our files?”

“When you were in London, you robbed a bank that Helix’s English branch was guarding. Your files were transferred to all branches once you were identified.”

“Ah.” Junkrat absentmindedly scratched at his ear. “Thought Helix sounded familiar. English bank… was that the one with the fancy marble floor?”

“Yes.” Pharah’s gaze sharpened. “You killed a lot of people that day.”

Junkrat shrugged. “Should’na been in the way then.”

Pharah glared. “Do you not feel an ounce of remorse? Guilt? _Anything?”_

Annoyance got the better of him. “We needed the money. Ain’t my fault they didn’t have the sense t’move. ’Sides, they’re suits.”

“Suits? They’re _people_.” She snapped. “And you should care-”

Junkrat scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck.”

“Fareeha.” Mercy murmured, stopping Pharah from retaliating as the Egyptian woman swelled in anger. “Remember that they’re Junkers. They have-” Mercy glanced at him, and Junkrat smirked, drumming his fingers on the table. “-a different moral code.”

Junkrat nodded in agreement as Pharah scoffed.

“Different? Try _none_.”

He _nearly_ retaliated, _nearly_ shot to his feet (in defence of what, he wasn’t sure), but sudden pressure from Roadhog’s hand on his belt loops made him pause and rethink. Junkrat grinned at Pharah slowly instead. “Got us there.”

He ignored the looks he and Roadhog were getting from everyone else clustered around the table; as a matter of fact, Pharah was right, but she was also wrong. Junkrat couldn’t care less about suits, but there was a small twinge of regret at the thought of innocent people. But, he reflected, they should have gotten out of the way. Besides, it was kinda difficult to adapt to how the ‘civilised’ world behaved.

Pharah looked at Winston. “Surely you won’t allow the recall to be compromised be hiring such men-”

“Oi!” Junkrat interjected. His knuckles tightened on the grenade in his hands as he glared. It was one thing to simply state the truth, as Pharah certainly had, but another to insult he and Hog like this in front of everyone. Junkrat wouldn’t have cared what any of them thought when they’d first arrived, but now he could call some of them mates… he could feel eyes on his form, and his lips curled off his teeth. “‘M roight here, y’know.”

“I know.” Pharah replied frostily. “But I thought a morally devoid individual like yourself could handle a little criticism.”

Junkrat paused, entirely unsure of how to respond to that. Seeking to save face, he shrugged and leaned back, arranging his expression to look like he was unbothered by her words. “Fair enough.”

Pharah frowned, and then looked down at her letter. She almost looked as though she was disappointed that he hadn’t been offended.

Junkrat tuned out of the rest of the conversation as they all began to discuss Amari and Morrison again. He rolled the grenade in between his fingers, feeling twitchy and anxious. His knee bounced up and down relentlessly, his peg leg grating on the ground from the motion. What he wanted most was to leave, to get out of this stifling little room and breathe fresh clean air and see the sky and blow some bombs and-

Roadhog shoved his shoulder lightly and handed him a cup of water. God only knew where Hog had gotten from, but Junkrat blinked and accepted it gratefully. He sipped at the water slowly, focusing on the sweet coolness of it. Before leaving the outback, he hadn’t really known water like this existed. It was a mere memory, the stuff from his childhood. It made him angry to think that the townies hoarded it for themselves, leaving him and others like him to salvage what little safe rainfall they got and holes in creek beds. It wasn’t fair, and then that woman had the bloody nerve to come in and _insinuate_ -

Junkrat blew out a breath and hunched down in his seat, setting the empty glass on the table and then he pulled open the side of the grenade so he could start pulling its insides out. Carefully of course – he wasn’t in the mood to lose anymore limbs, but he couldn’t help but feel distracted as anger and discomfort warred in the pit of his stomach.

When the meeting was finally over and Pharah had pissed off, Junkrat stomped out of room and headed back to the workshop, where he set about stuffing various explosives into his satchel. Roadhog met him at the door.

“Testing range?”

“Yeah.” Junkrat scrubbed a hand through his hair. “What a bloody bitch she is.”

“Ignore her.”

“I’m gonna, mate, dontcha worry.” Junkrat waved a dismissive hand. “Gonna blow a few bombs an’ forget her.”

The bombs helped. Junkrat forgot about Pharah in the waves of explosives, scribbling things down in his notebook to record interesting things he noted about the explosions. Since arriving at Overwatch, Junkrat had found he now had a _safe_ place to experiment with his bombs – he knew he wouldn’t have to pack up and leave at a moment’s notice, so he could afford to have slightly longer running experiments. This was doing wonders for his productivity, for as now he had legitimate access to materials to craft his explosives, it meant that he was able to start building designs he’d previously thought would never leave the pages of his notebook.

He detonated one such bomb now, a timed wall mounted explosive. Before, he’d had to acquire timers from wherever he could scrounge them up from, usually making do with kitchen timers and stolen hotel alarm clocks, but here? He’d mentioned it to Winston, who’d put in an order, and then a whole shipment of the damn things had arrived the next day. Suffice to say, when it came to bombs, Overwatch was heaven, and Junkrat was like a kid let loose in a toyshop.

Stashing the chewed and nibbled stub of his pencil behind his ear, Junkrat finally folded up his notebook and tucked it carefully into his pocket, having run out of bombs to blow. The last thing he’d detonated had been a pretty little handful of cherry bombs, and the cheery explosions had put him in a great mood.

“Roight, c’mon.” He said, turning to Roadhog. “Let’s go.”

Roadhog had come partly to watch and partly to test his scrapgun, and the big man nodded as he holstered his gun. They set off together back to the workshop, and Junkrat spent the whole way back describing the intricacies of how one of his newest designs had exploded – he’d created a delayed dummy explosive, so that a smaller charge would go off, and then theoretically, an enemy would approach, thinking the way was clear, and the larger charge would explode. It was proving difficult to get right, however, but Junkrat was pretty confident he was getting close.

“-An’ then, y’know, I gotta time it roight, or it ain’t gonna go off in time.” He explained, and Roadhog grunted.

“Nearly done with it?”

Junkrat scrubbed a hand over his face and giggled as they rounded a corner. “Nearly! Gotta fine tune it.”

Roadhog nodded. “Makes sense.”

They reached the workshop and strolled inside to find Symmetra seated at her workbench, a construction of blue light suspended in the air before her.

“G’day, ‘Metra.” Junkrat nodded in her direction as she uttered a quiet reply, and then he and Hog went and sat at his workbench. Junkrat grabbed a few empty shells and some wiring, and lowered himself to the floor to start putting them together. He preferred working on the floor most of the time – it was a much bigger workspace than his bench.

Roadhog sat at the bench and watched, occasionally fiddling with a few pieces, and then they’d barely been there for twenty minutes when he got a phone call. Junkrat caught sight of the number and recognised it at once – it was the bloke Roadie knew who had his bike. Roadhog’s motorbike, his pride and joy, had been left with this bloke that ran a security compound. When en route to Gibraltar, they hadn’t precisely known if this was a trap or not. After all, they’d tried going legit before, only to be betrayed by the suits involved. So, unwilling to risk his bike if it _was_ a trap, Roadhog had placed it into storage with this bloke that he knew.

Junkrat didn’t know the guy, and he didn’t have the slightest clue how Roadhog knew a bloke in Austria, but every second day the man contacted Hog with period updates on the bike’s safety. Now, seeing as they were six months in and _fairly_ sure this was a legit gig, Hog was organising the bike’s transport to Spain. It was either that, or Roadie go pick it up and drive it back himself, and the big man was still working out the details of the plan.

To be perfectly honest, Junkrat had been incredibly surprised to find out Roadhog would be putting the bike in storage. The only explanation he could come up with was that his bodyguard had known the Austrian bloke before the omnium blew, because it was over Hog’s dead body that the bike would go with anyone else.

Roadhog read the number on the display and got up, leaving the room to answer his call. Junkrat kept working on his bombs, now measuring out the C-4 that would go inside the shell.

“Junkrat?”

He looked up at the sound of Symmetra’s voice.

“Yeah?”

She smoothed her skirt before replying. “I apologise for having missed a lesson today.” Symmetra looked at the clock. “Time worked against us, I’m afraid.”

Junkrat shrugged from where he was lying on his back on the floor, working with two cables. “‘S okay. Y’ve been busy.”

“I have.” A hint of a wry smile appeared on her lips. “A rather unexpected two days, you could say.”

That brought the thought of Pharah back, and Junkrat’s lips curled in disgust. “Unexpected is roight.” He muttered.

“You seemed rather… upset, when speaking to Pharah this afternoon.” Symmetra crossed her legs and tilted her head. “Her words were not too distressing, I hope.”

Whatever he’d been about to say died on his tongue, and Junkrat squinted at her. “Y’hope? Whadaya mean, _y’hope?_ Dontcha agree with her?”

“Which part in particular?” There was an odd look on her face as she watched him.

Junkrat sat up, holding out a hand. “Okay, wait, hold up.” He paused to get his shit together. “Pharah was havin’ a go at me for bein’ a wanted criminal. Thought y’disapproved of that?”

“I do.” Symmetra watched him carefully, and Junkrat felt even more confused.

“Now yer not makin’ sense.” He muttered, and the corner of her lips turned up as she pushed her hair behind her shoulder.

“Pharah brought up several points. The accusations of criminal behaviour I agree with, certainly, but she also accused you of having no morals.”

Symmetra’s face settled into an impassive mask, and Junkrat raised a brow at her.

“…An’ y’agree with that?”

“No. I do not.” Symmetra turned away then, and Junkrat blinked at her back.

_“What?”_

Symmetra didn’t respond, so Junkrat scrambled to his feet and crossed the workshop to pop up at her elbow, squinting dubiously.

“Y’mind repeatin’? thought fer a minute there y’said _y’don’t_ agree with her.”

Symmetra turned to him then, her face settled in serious lines. “I don’t.” She said, a curious lilt to her voice, almost as if she were pleased with the subject matter. “I have seen you in battle, Junkrat, and you have proven yourself to be much more honourable than I thought.”

Junkrat blinked. “Y’talkin’ ‘bout the roight bloke? _Me?_ ”

The beginnings of a smile tugged at her lips. “Yes, you.” She crossed her legs neatly and folded her hands in her lap. “On our last mission, I saw what you did.”

Junkrat rocked back on his heels and scratched at his head uncomfortably. He knew what she was talking about; on their last mission, they’d been ransacking a small Talon facility. He and Roadhog had been looting the place dry, but then he’d spotted a ragtag group of Talon agents attempting to get away by holding a civilian family hostage. Junkrat had hesitated, but he’d dropped the loot and gone in, engaging the agents and blowing them up, and the civilian family had _thanked_ him, as if he were some kind of hero! And then they ran away. He’d gone back to looting before anyone had missed him, or so he’d thought.

“Y’saw that?”

Her smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I did. I was en route to that family myself; I assumed you would ignore them and continue looting. But you did not.”

“Ah, it’s this place.” Junkrat sank to the ground and attempted to blow it off; the way she was looking at him was making him feel uncomfortable. “Guess its rubbin’ off on me, hey? Can’t spend months hangin’ round a bunch of do-gooders without feelin’ the urge t’do a little good. I guess. I dunno.”

“It was very commendable.” Symmetra’s smile threatened to become full-blown. “I am very impressed.”

A warm and fuzzy feeling started to develop low in his stomach. “Yeah? Didn’t think that’d ever happen.”

“Neither did I, if you must know.” Symmetra did smile at him then, her expression totally free of its usual cool severity. “I admit… you are not as bad as I thought.”

“Hooley dooley.” Junkrat mumbled, mostly just for something to say. Symmetra was impressed with him? The thought made butterflies flit around in his stomach. She… did she think he was a decent man? _She must be off her rocker._ Junkrat squinted at her, wondering then if she’d seen his files or not. He’d been charged with an awful lot of shit, and gotten away with more. “Y’seen the things I’ve done or not?”

“If you are asking whether or not I have read your files, I have.” Symmetra’s face lost the warmth. “But I am – and have always been – of the opinion that it is circumstance which sculpts us.” A wry smile twisted her lips. “It did for me. You are loud, violent and uncouth, but is that not a result of your upbringing? Had the omnium never blown, would you still be a violent thief?”

“Nah.” Junkrat spoke before he could stop himself. “Mum woulda skinned me alive before I even got two steps down the drive.” He shut his mouth then, regretting his words.

Symmetra looked pleased at his response. “You see? Your criminal tendencies – the theft, murder, arson – wasn’t that born out of necessity?”

“Well, I mean… yeah?” Junkrat rather felt like he had whiplash as he tried to defend himself. “But… I did a lot of that stuff ‘cause it was fun.”

Symmetra nodded. “I am aware. But in the beginning, it was born of necessity, was it not?”

“Yeah.” He admitted. “Yer roight. That’s how it started fer all of us.”

She looked pleased. “I thought so.”

“This armchair psychiatrist night or what?”

Symmetra looked amused. “I apologise; I get a little carried away with analysing people sometimes.”

“Didn’t think yer’d be looking t’excuse criminal behaviour but.”

She frowned then. “I am not excusing it.” Symmetra’s tone was cold again, and Junkrat could have kicked himself. “I am simply trying to reconcile the man before me, the one who is far too enthusiastic about sweet tea and bomb casings for his own good, and the one I have read about.” She leaned in slightly. “And for the record, I much prefer the former.”

Junkrat sat in stunned silence as she turned and gathered up some papers.

“I must see Winston now. Excuse me.”

He watched as Symmetra moved out of the room, her hair hanging perfect and shiny down her back, her heels clicking on the floor, and felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Junkrat loped back across the workshop and lay down on the floor again, grabbing the half completed mine he’d abandoned to go and talk to her, but his mind was elsewhere.

Symmetra was implying he’d changed, wasn’t she? She said she much preferred the former – what the hell did _that_ mean? Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach, and suddenly Junkrat knew what was bothering him about her words. She _understood_. Never, in all his days as a Junker, had he ever heard anyone attempt to understand why they robbed. The cityslickers didn’t. They just whinged and moaned and locked their things up tighter, forcing the Junkers to become more violent. They needed what the cityslickers had, or else they’d risk dying, but no one seemed to understand! They wanted the Junkers to die out, he knew that much, but… Symmetra understood that while they’d developed a taste for violence, in the beginning… they’d done it because they’d _had_ to.

“Holy fuck.” Junkrat whispered, dragging a hand over his face. He’d certainly never had a woman tell him she was _impressed_ with him, and never a woman of Symmetra’s calibre – he felt a bit unworthy, actually. He’d really only saved that family because it meant he had more Talon arseholes to blow up, but he supposed he could admit some of the attitudes around here were rubbing off on him.

His thoughts drifted back to Symmetra, and he pictured her in his mind. He’d thought her cold and severe, a perfect suit – well, she was perfect all right, but she was _not_ a suit. A suit would never say what she’d just said about him – and that warm little smile on her face! No woman had ever understood him like that before – and she was so pretty, too. Gorgeous, actually. That little smile suited her. That warm and fuzzy feeling in his gut started to spread the longer he thought about her – she was impressed with him! She’d thought what he’d done was commendable! _She said she prefers the former._

What the hell did _that_ mean?

Junkrat found a golden tooth with his tongue, puzzling it over. He’d never deluded himself that she liked his company – if anything, he’d gotten the impression that she offered to teach him to read much like a rich socialite donated to charity – because she thought it was a good thing to do. Well, teaching him to read had been a bit more involved than just making a deposit. Junkrat giggled to himself, imagining it. Symmetra was patient and fairly kind, if inclined to be rather formal, and he still couldn’t make sense of it at all.

Junkrat went further back in their conversation then, thinking about what she’d said a little earlier. _Circumstances make a man, or somethin’_. What had she said? It had for her? He thought about this for a moment, and then pulled out his phone. A little while ago, she’d told him where she’d grown up. Hadn’t she said it had been in the slums? He had a bugger of a time trying to spell ‘Hyderabad’, and still wasn’t entirely sure he’d gotten it right as he scrolled through the pictures. He’d looked up the slums, and sank his teeth into his lower lip. Symmetra had lived here? He tried to picture her living there – in all her perfect glory – and failed miserably.

Wait.

Was this what she meant?

 _Circumstances make you_ – Junkrat realised there had been an _event_ in both of their lives, an event which changed things forever. He’d had a good home and she’d had a shit one – and then came the event. His had been when the omnium blew and his parents had died, turning him into a feral little child living off roadkill and creek water until picked up by another survivor. He’d been taken to the town where everyone was trying to scrape together a liveable habitat – the place that would become Junkertown. Symmetra had lived in poverty until Vishkar had swooped in and plucked her from obscurity to become one of their finest architechs.

That’s what she meant.

If those two singular things had not happened, their lives would have turned out so differently. Symmetra could obviously see the parallels. Junkrat swallowed hard and scrambled to his feet, lurching over to his workbench and shoving assorted bits of metal and paper aside until he came up with the bomb she'd made him.The hard light explosive gleamed in his hands, and he stared at it in contemplative silence for a long moment. He'd told her that he was going to detonate it, and he was, but hadn't found the time for such a special detonation yet. Now, the butterflies intensified as he cleared a spot and gently placed the bomb back on his desk. Junkrat had never kept an explosive before, but this - this was proof of something Symmetra had given him. He wanted to keep it.

Junkrat lowered himself back to the floor and poked at the bomb casing in bewildered silence just as the door opened and Roadhog came back in. Junkrat lurched into a sitting position, mouth opening to tell Hog and get his perspective on Symmetra’s bewildering words, when Hana came bounding out from behind Roadhog. Junkrat’s mouth snapped shut. He couldn’t let Hana know – she’d blab. Maybe. He couldn’t take the risk.

“Hello, Rat!” She beamed, coming over to sit beside him.

“G’day, squirt.” Junkrat made himself grin her, thought secretly he was annoyed at her presence. He was trying to sort this Symmetra thing out, dammit!

“Whatcha doing?”

Junkrat blinked and looked down. “Er, puttin’ this together.” He wigged the bomb casing.

“Nice.” Hana leaned forwards. “Want to come and play with me? Lúcio’s still pissed at Symmetra and he won’t play… I need someone to wipe the floor with! Please, Rat?”

Junkrat snickered at the thought.

 _“Please?”_ Hana clasped her hands together, her eyes huge as she mock-begged.

“Yeah, all roight.” Junkrat nodded as Hana laughed and clapped her hands. Getting his arse kicked by Hana in whatever game she wanted to verse him in sounded nice and distracting – and he could always talk to Hog later.

Hog followed at a plodding pace while Hana pulled him down the hall by his wrist, not really noticing that Junkrat was being uncharacteristically quiet – his thoughts were still full of Symmetra. They passed the woman herself on the way to the rec room – she was shuffling through some papers as she left Winston’s lab, a frown etched between her brows. Junkrat’s stomach flipped over when he saw her, and he swallowed hard.

She said he’d impressed her.

He kind of… wanted to do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo Junkrat hasn't quite figured it out yet, but this is the exact moment he starts to develop a crush on her. At the same time, Symmetra's realising that she has more in common with the filthy Junker than she'd previously thought.


	14. Seeking Soldier: 76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Overwatch crew go to Vienna following a recent sighting of 76, and Satya finds herself fed up with Junkrat.

In roughly two hours they were leaving on their most important mission yet, and Satya had never seen the base so busy. Tracer and Hana were down in the hanger, making sure the dropship and MEKA were in perfect running order; they’d roped Lúcio into helping. Some of the others, including McCree and Hanzo, were in the shooting range, getting in some last minute practice. Mercy was prepping her medical supplies and loading them into the dropship, and Reinhardt was hounding Torbjörn about his armour. Winston was holed up in his lab making plans, and Junkrat was scrabbling to finish as many bombs as he could.

Their latest arrival was, however, floating peacefully over the grass outside. Satya paused outside the window and watched the meditating omnic thoughtfully for a moment as the sun caught the gleaming metal plates of his face and glittered.

“Do you wish to speak to my master?”

Satya turned as the robotic voice behind her addressed her. “No. I was just passing, but I got distracted. I was just thinking about your arrival.” She admitted, her gaze meeting Genji’s visor. “I think we ought to have given the Junkers more warning.”

The cyborg inclined his head. “That would have been wise. We knew they were Australian, but we didn’t realise that their hatred of omnics was so… _extreme_. We didn’t know they were Junkers.”

Satya lifted one shoulder. “I don’t think we did either. Know the extent of their feelings, that is. It should have been obvious; their home is a radioactive wasteland because of omnics.”

Genji nodded. “In retrospect, yes. Though the omnics who plagued Australia are no friend of my master.” A warning tone tinged his voice, and Satya inclined her head.

“I know, but I doubt Junkrat and Roadhog will see that. Their prejudice runs deep.”

“I could tell.” A tinge of humour warred with irritation, and Genji moved towards the door where he could join the omnic monk. “I must go. I’ll see you later, Symmetra.”

Satya made a similar goodbye and spent another moment gazing out at Zenyatta, and then she turned to head back to her room. They weren’t sure how long the mission would last, and so those who were going had been instructed to prepare a small bag. Hers was already packed and ready to go, but she thought she might double check it.

On her way back to her room, her thoughts drifted back to Zenyatta. Winston had been in contact with Genji while the latter had been away, and upon hearing that 76 had been spotted first in Prague and more recently in Vienna, he’d resolved on instantly returning to join the mission.

The problem was, his master had returned with him.

Tekhartha Zenyatta resided in a monastery in Nepal, and he was an omnic. Apparently, Winston had informed Junkrat and Roadhog that an omnic would be arriving at Gibraltar, but they had either misunderstood or not taken it on board, because when Zenyatta and Genji had arrived yesterday, there had been a bit of a ruckus.

Satya hadn’t been there herself, but she’d had all the details from Mei; Zenyatta and Genji were being shown to the rec room, when Junkrat and Roadhog had rounded the corner. Apparently, there’d been something of a standoff, and then Junkrat had gone for a grenade. He’d promptly gotten himself tackled by Genji, and then Roadhog had gotten involved and nearly flattened Genji. Hanzo had then gotten quite vocal on his brother’s behalf, and all the while Junkrat and Genji had been wrestling on the floor.

Winston had finally pulled the pair apart and informed Junkrat and Roadhog that Zenyatta and Genji were to be left unharmed, and the result was that there was now two decidedly pissed off Junkers, one of whom refused to leave the workshop. Roadhog was slightly more of an enigma; Satya had assumed, seeing as he was older and therefore more likely to remember the omnic crisis besieging Australia that he’d have the worst vendetta, but he’d been in the same room as Zenyatta yesterday as he entered the kitchen to get dinner for both Junkrat and himself, and no violence had occurred. Though, Satya reflected, Roadhog had refused to even look in Zenyatta’s direction. Not that it was easy to tell with that mask on his face.           

Satya reached her room and accessed the keypad to open her door. Moving over to her bed, she unzipped her overnight bag and ran a critical eye over the contents. Lifting out her clothes, she assessed what she’d packed so far. Satya ran her fingers over the clean blue of her spare uniform (in case of accidents), her pyjamas (of course), several neat blouses and skirts (as civilian clothing) and her Vishkar uniform (just in case). She fingered her toiletry bag and eyed her spare toothbrush; happy with the contents of the bag, she rezipped it and laid it neatly within her overnight bag together with her clothes. Underwear, shoes and a hairbrush completed the set, and she zipped the overnight bag closed and set it square in the middle of her bed.

Her next point of call was to change out of her neat blouse and slacks and into her uniform instead. When she was done, Satya eyed herself critically in the mirror, running her gaze over the azure blue of her slitted skirt, and adjusted the tops of her stockings so that they sat at the same height. Setting her visor on top of her duffel bag and her photon projector beside it, she deemed herself ready.

Satya then examined her room carefully; she’d cleaned it from top to bottom in preparation of the mission, for there was little she enjoyed more than returning from a trip to a flawlessly clean room with freshly washed sheets on her perfectly made bed. Nothing appeared to be out of place, and so Satya deemed her duties in this area complete and decided to go to the workshop to pick up her blueprints instead, for she had decided to take a folder with her, one full of all the blueprints for designs she thought might be helpful on the mission, considering no one really knew what was going to happen.

Hopefully, they would find 76 without too much trouble. Unfortunately, the area where he was rumoured to be was crawling with Talon agents. Pharah was going to rendezvous with the team when they got to Vienna (she had requested, and been granted, temporary leave from Helix), and then they were going to try and intercept 76 at some point. Satya was still a little unclear on the details.

The team chosen to go consisted of McCree, because he knew how 76 operated; Tracer, to fly the dropship; Reinhardt, to lead the mission; Mercy, to provide medical assistance; Junkrat, because Zenyatta was staying behind; Roadhog, because Junkrat was going; Genji, because he insisted; Hana; because _she_ insisted, and Lúcio, to run support and surveillance. Satya was also going, to provide assistance in the form of teleporters, turrets, and good old fashioned knowledge, for she’d been to that area of Vienna before.

Reaching the workshop, Satya was not surprised to find Junkrat half buried in his stockpile of bombs, busy viciously badmouthing Zenyatta to Roadhog. For his part, Roadhog was loading scrap into a duffel bag and nodding along to his boss’s heated spiel.

Junkrat broke off when he saw her, dragging his good hand through his hair. “Ah, g’day ‘Metra.” He paused and stared for a moment, eyes widening as he took in her appearance, then looked away quickly and drummed his fingers on his thighs. Satya didn’t take all this in, for she was headed to her bench, but if she had, she’d have seen the way his ears reddened slightly. “Ready t’go?”

“Just about.” She answered. “I just need to pick up some of my blueprints.” Satya turned to eye him critically as he sat before his RIP-tire and poked about in the innards of the engine, a duffel bag on the ground nearly overflowing with explosives beside him.

At that moment, Winston’s voice came over the loudspeaker, informing everyone who was going that they had half an hour to gather their things and meet in the hanger, where the final briefing would take place before they left.

Junkrat leapt to his feet and Roadhog followed. “Showtime!” He crowed enthusiastically, and set about hoisting his RIP-tire into his arms.

Satya half smiled, but noticed that he’d deliberately turned so his back was to her. Roadhog shook his head at Junkrat, who hissed something back too quietly for her to make out. He’d certainly been acting odd lately. Satya turned on her heel, blueprints in hand and made her way back to her room to collect her duffel bag, puzzling it over as she went. The change was obvious; she’d pinpointed it as being the day after they’d been in contact with Pharah, and ever since then, he hadn’t met her gaze.

Satya hadn’t given the change a great deal of thought until he’d been uncharacteristically silent for essentially their whole reading lesson together (he apparently preferred to lie on the ground and watch her instead), and now she couldn’t help but be curious as to what, exactly, had distracted Junkrat to such an extent.

As she made her way back to her room, Satya cleared her mind of all thoughts regarding the Junker. Now was not the time to think of him. She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, then picked up her photon projector and visor. She ran into Mei on the way back down to the hanger, and gladly walked down with her.

“You’ll be careful, right?” Mei’s normally cheerful face wore a worried expression. “All of you. We’ve been hearing weird things…”

“We will.” Satya assured her. “At least, I certainly _hope_ we will.”

Mei snickered slightly. “Wishful thinking, with _those_ two around.”

There was no doubt as to who she meant.

“They aren’t so bad.” Satya said, then bit her lip. Was she _defending_ Junkrat and Roadhog?

“No? Could’ve fooled me.” Mei said, not commenting on her statement, to which Satya felt relief. “I thought you didn’t like them either. How come…?”

“I don’t.” Satya rushed to defend herself. “That is, I am in frequent contact with them both, seeing as Junkrat rarely leaves the workshop. He might be loud and violent and rude, but he has proven himself in the field.”

“And that makes him good in your eyes?” Mei’s voice held nothing but frank curiosity, and Satya couldn’t help her laugh.

“In Vishnu’s name, no!” Satya recollected herself then. “No, he – and Roadhog – have done many things which I can never condone. However, I try to judge people based upon their professional merit. Their approaches might be… _questionable_ , but they do get the job done.”

Mei shrugged in acquiescence. “I suppose you’re right.”

Satya nodded slightly, and they fell into silence as they passed through the door into the hangar. Most of the team was already there, clustered around the door of the dropship. Satya went to stand by Hana as Mercy motioned for Mei to join her.

“Hey Symmetra!” Hana chirped, fingers brushing through her hair as she prepared to put her headphones on. “All ready?”

“I believe so.” Satya replied with a smile, setting her bag at her feet.

“Symmetra!” Called Tracer. “C’mon love – bags go ‘ere.”

Satya gathered up her bag and took it over to where Tracer was stashing everyone’s gear in the cargo hold. She settled her bag neatly inside and then stepped away to allow others access, and headed over to Winston instead, who was flipping through files on a tablet and frowning.

“Do you think our probability of finding Morrison is very high?” She asked, and Winston shrugged one shoulder wearily.

“Honestly, I haven’t the faintest clue.” He said, sounding tired, and no wonder – he’d been up for nearly two days straight, attempting to gather enough data to reasonably pinpoint 76’s whereabouts. Even now, they weren’t entirely sure they’d find anything. “But it’s worth a shot.”

Satya nodded and faded back into the group as Winston called for attention.

“All right, everyone.” He said, looking up from his tablet. “Lena, are we right to leave?”

“Yep! All ready.” Tracer proudly patted the side of her craft.

“Good.” Winston took another moment, brows furrowed. “This would be the part where I give the mission objective, but I don’t really have one. When you get there, infiltration is key. Get into security feeds – Athena will be assisting with that – scout locations where Jack was last rumoured to be. If we’re lucky, we’ll get hints of Ana’s location too. If you find either of them, locate and intercept. Let them know that we know who they are, and that they’re more than welcome to return.” He paused. “Jack has his own agenda… try and find out what he thinks breaking into so many government facilities will get him, but be prepared if he refuses to return.”

Satya listened, but she was really only half listening as she went over things in her mind. She’d spoken to Sanjay this morning and talked things over with him; he was of the opinion that the mission was a waste of time and that she would be better off not going. Satya had pointed out that she knew Vienna, and could be of use to the team. While she privately agreed with Sanjay that it was doubtful that Morrison would return to Overwatch – after all, if he intended to come back, why had he not yet done so? – but she did see the importance of gathering any intelligence the vigilante had collected.

Sanjay had finally acquiesced, but only after giving her the address of a businessman he’d like her to see. They’d both agreed that depending on how the mission went, it might be that she would be unable to visit the man, a French millionaire property tycoon by the name of Arnaud L’Ouverture, and therefore she would not be reprimanded for missing the appointment. She learned that her visit to L’Ouverture would be for the purposes of negotiating a deal regarding the sale of some property that Vishkar was interested in, and it was her job to persuade the man to sell to Vishkar. It was settled – she would speak to Reinhardt on a slow day – if they had one – and see if she couldn’t spend an hour or two with L’Ouverture.

The briefing, owing to their lack of any concrete plans, was almost ironically brief, and Satya found herself turning to board the dropship when Zenyatta floated in through the door. She watched as the omnic drifted towards Genji and drew him into a low conversation, but mostly she found herself looking at the Junkers. Roadhog was glaring with flat anger at the monk, and Junkrat… if he had been a dog, she mused, you’d have seen the fur on his neck raised in hostility. Though, she reflected, it was entirely possible his hair was doing that anyway. An ugly sneer twisted his lips, no hint of humour about it as he scowled in Zenyatta’s direction, though to the omnic’s credit, he steadfastly ignored the challenge being so obviously sent his way.

Genji was glaring back over the shoulder of his master, and restrained himself with effort. This effort was doubled when Junkrat started voicing his distaste to Roadhog, making no attempt to lower his voice.

“ _Junkrat_.” Winston said firmly. “Get on board.”

Junkrat glared. “Yeah, yeah. I’m goin’.” Roadhog followed him on board as he clanked past her, and Satya clearly heard the muttering starting up again. “Fuckin’ mangy tin cans, Christ-”

“Do not let him get to you, Genji.” Zenyatta said, his robotic voice cool and lilting. “I doubt he will change his views; it is up to you to be the bigger person.”

Junkrat’s voice, loud and indignant, echoed from the belly of the dropship. “Fuckin’ _what!?”_

Then there came the sound of a scuffle as Reinhardt, who was already on board, bodily restrained and argued with him as Junkrat insisted on marching back down to ask Zenyatta exactly what the fuck he thought he’d just said. Satya sighed slightly and boarded the ship herself, moving inside to sit neatly beside Reinhardt. Junkrat had been released and moved to sit, clearly sulking, beside Roadhog, who sat as impassively as ever.

Gradually, the dropship filled up with the rest of the team, and Tracer’s voice echoed over the loudspeaker as she instructed everyone to buckle up and prepare for take-off. Satya inwardly groaned when Genji sat directly across from Junkrat and proceeded to stare. Junkrat was deep in discussion with Roadhog as he insulted Zenyatta when he noticed the cyborg and his voice tapered off, his slightly confused expression replaced with a glare.

“Here we go.” Reinhardt muttered in an exasperated undertone, and Satya rolled her eyes as Junkrat bristled.

“Y’looking at somthin’, _mate?”_

Genji took his time in replying. “I was, yes.”

Satya just knew that if he hadn’t been strapped into his seat, Junkrat would be on his feet by now. As the argument between the two got louder, she turned to Reinhardt as Mercy, who sat on his other side, began to voice her concern.

“Will you intervene?” She asked. “I don’t want to listen to this the whole way down.”

“Probably.” Reinhardt said, sounding rather unconcerned. “Let’s see if zey tire zemselves out first.”

They didn’t.

Satya sighed to herself for what seemed like the millionth time and tried to focus on her phone as Junkrat and Genji kept bickering. They’d kept it up for over an hour, despite Mercy, McCree and Reinhardt trying to break it up, and Hana telling them to shut it, but they just kept arguing. Satya was a millimetre away from snapping as she rubbed her temples.

“You insult my master-”

“Yeah, well, yer master’s a filthy bot-”

“You are a _fool_ -!”

“Least I ain’t the fuckin’ drongo takin’ orders from a tin can!”

“You-”

Satya could take no more. Spinning hard light between her fingers, she flung it at both of them without further thought, only seeking to shut them up. Gleaming blue light sealed over both annoyingly loud mouths, effectively gagging them, and both Genji and Junkrat spun to face her with incredulous looks on their faces.

“Mfpmurgle!” Junkrat got out, trying and failing to manually remove the light from his face. Genji merely blinked at her like a solemn and offended owl; she was able to gag him because minutes before he’d been seeking to shut Junkrat up when the latter started implying he mightn’t be human at all, just a fancy bot, and so Genji had removed his visor to show the scarred flesh beneath. Junkrat had faltered for a moment, but then regained his stride, much to her disgust.

“ _Enough_.” Satya said firmly, her voice irritable. “You are both acting like children, and I certainly will not listen to this the whole way to Vienna.”

McCree, who’d been nodding almost sleepily in the corner – how he was able to even contemplate sleeping with all this noise, she simply didn’t know – started to laugh. Hana, Reinhardt and Lúcio joined in until they were practically in hysterics, and Mercy leaned around Reinhardt to smile over her own chuckles.

“That’s one way to do it.” She said, her eyes crinkled with mirth, and Satya felt herself smile back.

“It is better than listening to childish squabbling for the entirety of the trip.” Satya shrugged delicately and snuck a look at the two gagged men; Genji was suffering through McCree and Hana taking pictures of him to send to Hanzo, and Junkrat was sulking. Her eyes met his and his brows drew together, the picture of sullen displeasure. Junkrat pulled out his phone then and hunched over it, his features showing nothing but intense concentration as he typed something in slowly.

Satya felt her lips hitch up in a half smile when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Digging it out, she read the message swiftly.

 **{11873} Junkrat  
** aint needd

She thought for a moment (and sighed at his atrocious spelling) before making her reply.

 **{96856} Symmetra  
** Would you have stopped otherwise?

There was a slight pause.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
nah

She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes for a moment, considering again their very different writing styles. Satya rarely used slang, preferring to utilise proper spelling and grammar. It might take longer, but the end result was much more appropriate within her professional sphere. Junkrat on the other hand, despite her efforts to teach him otherwise, tended to write how he spoke, except drastically shortened to reduce the effort of constructing sentences. While his terrible grammatical structure pained her, Satya supposed it was testament to his determination that he’d gone from being almost completely illiterate to being able to send and receive simple texts in a matter of months.

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
That’s what I thought

She watched Junkrat blow out an irritated breath once he deciphered her message (for a moment she wondered if her messages were too complex for him yet, though she always fought to simplify them from how she usually wrote), and the fingers of his free hand came up to try and pry the hard light loose, but he failed once more.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
take it of

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
Will you behave?

Satya could see a sliver of sheepishness through the defiance when her gaze met his. Junkrat’s expression turned to that of disgust as he very obviously gave up, slumping back into the seat and dropping his phone beside him. He very deliberately turned away from her then, and Satya frowned slightly; she hadn’t expected him to give up the fight _that_ easily.

McCree caught her attention then, still looking like he was going to die of laughter. “When yer gonna let ‘em go?” He asked, wiping his eyes and unwrapping a fresh cigarillo, which Satya eyed with distaste.

“When I am satisfied there will be no repeat of that nonsense.” Satya replied crisply, crossing her legs. She could just feel Junkrat’s glare; of course he would be highly offended by the notion of his hatred of omnics being dismissed as nonsense, but she stood by her words. It wasn’t so much the context of the argument that was the issue, but the length of it.

Genji put his hands together in a pleading motion, and Satya ended up smiling slightly again.

“Very well.” She said, and with a wave of her hand the hard light peeled away and returned to float above the palm of her mechanical hand. She hadn’t progressed the construct beyond the wireframe she used for her shields – perfect for muffling, but not yet solid. The light blinked out as she lowered her palm, and she shot Genji and Junkrat a hard look. “But I _will_ do it again should I have too…” Satya let the warning float in the air, and Genji inclined his head as his visor slid down to conceal his face.

“My apologies for getting carried away.” He said softly to the space at large, and Satya turned her attention to Junkrat, who had not yet spoken. He was in the process of cracking his jaw, a sullen look on his face, and when he resolutely refused to look at her and curled up in his seat to converse with Roadhog in a low undertone, Satya frowned slightly in discomfort and looked down at her phone to distract herself.

Why did he look so miserable? Surely he realised _why_ she’d done it – Satya shook her head to clear her thoughts. Clearly, he was just sulking. She scrolled through her latest messages from Sanjay in a bid to distract herself, and blessedly, the silence held.

 

* * *

 

Their arrival in Vienna was quiet. Tracer landed the ship in a private airstrip Winston had arranged for them, and then plain, inconspicuous vans were hired to transport them to their accommodation.

It was not at all what she’d expected.

Satya stood in the hallway of the small and ratty looking hotel and stared critically around; Reinhardt had explained to them all that they were going deep undercover, and to do so, needed somewhere inconspicuous to hide. Somehow, that translated to a dingy little hotel with a façade littered with leaves from the old tree in the tiny grassed area. If it had some basic care, she had no doubt it would be lovely; a building dating from at least the mid 1800s, from what she could tell from the architecture. She noted the amount of grime on the windows, and supressed a shudder at the thought of sleeping here.

“Symmetra! Aren’t you coming?” Tracer called from room 7 – owing to the size of their party, Winston had booked three rooms, all featuring the door typically used by the cleaning ladies to enter the apartments without having to go around, which meant they could pass freely in and out through each other’s rooms without needing to go outside. She, Tracer, Mercy and Hana were sharing the ‘ladies room’ as McCree called it, which fortunately the hotel had obligingly stocked with four single beds to replace the double and two singles. The next room, room 8, was to belong to Reinhardt, Lúcio and Genji, and the last room, room 9, was to house the Junkers and McCree. Pharah, who hadn’t yet arrived, was staying somewhere Helix had arranged for her.

With a slight sigh, Satya picked up her bag and went inside, her expectations lower than low. The hotel was small and even though it was clean, it managed to be dingy looking. From what was clearly a lovely old 19th century building, it had been gutted and rebuilt at some point, most likely the 20th century, judging from the ugly walls and fixtures that didn’t match the exterior of the building at all. The walls were plain and shabby, and the covers on the beds were patterned in the most hideous geometric cloth imaginable, and all of it was paining the architect inside her immensely. Satya set her bag down on the bed beside the far wall, effectively claiming it, and then inspected the bed itself, examining the cleanliness of the sheets and rubbing the fabric between her fingers to determine the thread count.

Once she’d been able to use the bathroom after Mercy had, to change from her uniform into civilian wear (they needed to blend in as much as possible, so while at the motel, Reinhardt had instructed them to wear casual clothing), Satya swept her gaze about the room. Hana was sitting on her bed with Lúcio, chatting animatedly, while Tracer was perched on Mercy’s bed while the latter carefully put away her Valkyrie suit.

Needing a moment to clear her head, Satya headed downstairs and outside, then thought she might call Sanjay, to inform him of their arrival and tell him the dismal state of their accommodation. After a moments consideration, Satya headed towards the front of the building, for just beyond that there was a small grassy area that would be perfect for reflecting on the day. Thanks to the path she took, however, she had to round a corner before she actually reached the grassed area, and just before she could, she heard voices. Satya paused for a moment to assess the conversation and decide whether it would be rude of her to intrude, and then she noticed two things in rapid succession.

The first was that the men spoke in strong Australian accents. The second was that one of them had said her name.

Satya lingered, unable to help herself as Junkrat bitterly bemoaned her gagging both he and Genji with hard light. Strangely enough, he didn’t seem to be angry about the actual gagging, which he explained away with a, “‘cause that tin can was bein’ a roight dropkick.” Instead, Junkrat seemed to be more bothered with the fact that she hadn’t removed the gag when he’d asked.

“Fuckin’… when Genji asked, but, she did it! Fuckin’ rusty old half bot, an’ she don’t even think ‘bout it for half a fuckin’ second.”

Roadhog said something she couldn’t decipher.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s the fuckin’ principle of the thing, ain’t it? Asked her nice an’ everythin’.”

Junkrat devolved into bitter mumblings, to which Roadhog answered with an inaudible grunt. Satya stood with wide eyes – was Junkrat really offended by that? _Why?_ She told herself she ought to move then – it wasn’t fair of her to listen in on a clearly private conversation. She turned to leave, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid hearing Junkrat’s next words.

“Just… thought she was nicer, y’know?” Junkrat’s voice sounded dull and a little dispirited, a major contrast to his usual maniacal good spirits. “Thought ‘cause she’s been helpin’ me, she’d… I dunno. Take my side.” A bitter laughed echoed around the corner. “Guess I’m too much of a pain in the arse.”

Satya’s heart dropped all the way down to her toes as she scurried away out of earshot. Apparently, Junkrat thought that because she’d been teaching him to read, it merited friendship between them. That would certainly explain why he was so easy and casual with her, but… they weren’t _friends_. Not really. As if she could befriend a lunatic such as he was and get away with it! She’d be laughed out of Vishkar and onto the streets. No, instead, they were… Satya chewed on her lip. Acquaintances sounded a little cold and unfamiliar considering the time and effort she’d put in with his reading lessons. They were business associates, certainly, but friends? The thought was strange.

Satya shook her head to clear her thoughts and pulled her phone from her pocket. She had ended up in the small lobby of the hotel, dismissing the owner when he inquired if she needed anything, and sat in one of the armchairs to call Sanjay.

He answered quickly, which she appreciated, and inquired as to when they’d arrived.

“Not too long ago.” Satya replied, crossing her legs as the hotel owner blinked at her rapid Hindi. “It’s been perhaps an hour since we landed. We reached the hotel not long afterwards.”

“Ah. And how is it?”

Satya let her eyes flicker about the lobby. “…Not the nicest accommodation I’ve ever had.” She spent a few minutes detailing the dismal state of the hotel, to which Sanjay voiced disgust. As they were both rather high flying personnel within their corporate world, it had been a long time since either of them had stayed in anything less than a five-star resort.

“Absolutely ridiculous. It’s unheard of, an architech of your calibre being given such atrocious accommodation!” Sanjay sounded irritated. “Do they assume Vishkar accepts less than the best-”

“I don’t think it is quite like that.” Satya said, seeking to waylay his complaints. “Overwatch _is_ still illegal, and while Vishkar’s funding is helping keep things afloat, I doubt that extends to luxury accommodation.”

“That is true.” Sanjay was silent for a moment. “I will contact Winston.” He offered. “Have you moved to a hotel more befitting your station.”

Satya couldn’t help her smile. “Oh, that would be wonderful. Anything would be better than this shabby, rundown place.” There was a hint of wistfulness in her tone, but she worked to banish it. “However, were I to move, I could not help in mission co-ordination and such like. Furthermore, I believe this place was chosen for its inconspicuousness. Winston does not want us to be seen, so I’m afraid I’ll will have to decline your offer, however tempting it may be.”

“I see.” Sanjay still didn’t sound happy. “But I still disapprove of our top architech staying in a rundown old hovel.”

Satya’s gaze was drawn by the door opening, and Junkrat and Roadhog trudged in (Roadhog was getting all kinds of looks from the hotel owner thanks to his mask. At least both men had left their weapons in their room). She noted that Junkrat seemed in better spirits, and nodded briefly in greeting before replying to Sanjay.

“I don’t fancy it either, but I’ve little choice in the matter.” She sighed. “Anyhow, I must get back. Reinhardt wants us elbow deep in city security footage by this afternoon.”

“Very well; I’ll not delay you further.” Sanjay said crisply. “Remember, Satya, that should you require it, our Viennese headquarters will offer any assistance you require.”

She didn’t miss the way he emphasised _you_ ; he meant her only, not the rest of the team.

“Thank you, Sanjay. I will keep it in mind.”

Sanjay signed off and hung up, and Satya spent a moment putting her phone away before she stood up and made her way back to her room.

 

* * *

 

The next day was spent with everyone crammed into Reinhardt, Lúcio and Genji’s room, which was doubling as their technological hub. Some were scanning police radio, some were examining security footage, and others were checking social media. Anything vaguely related to 76 or even vigilantes in general was noted and checked out, but so far, they had nothing.

The next day passed the same way, as did the next, the monotony of which was only broken by Pharah's arrival. The Egyptian woman had no new information to shed, and though she and Junkrat had glowered at each other, she'd spent the day at the moment helping the search. At the moment, however, Pharah was out tracing a lead of her own. Despite that, it was all going so slowly that Satya felt it was worth approaching Reinhardt about L’Ouverture. It would be nice to get some time alone, and more importantly, get away from Junkrat.

Junkrat was not used to being cooped up in such small quarters, and being rather technologically inept (seeing as there wasn’t much in the way of tech in the outback), he was occupying himself by being a pain. Reinhardt’s keys had fallen victim to his thieving ways, as had Hana’s handheld, Mercy’s Caduceus staff, and McCree’s hat (McCree had nearly launched him out the window for that). He insisted on building bombs in the room (at least Reinhardt had convinced him to sit in the corner to do so), stole food and hid people’s belongings. After a thoroughly exasperated Mercy cornered Roadhog and spoke to him about it (after finding her hairbrush covered in gravy) and discovered the sheer extent of Junkrat’s boredom.

After that, they understood – somewhat. In the outback, people rarely stayed in one place. It was too dangerous to do so. So used to being constantly on the move, both Junkers felt antsy and out of place, but Junkrat seemed to be physically unable to stay still. At least at Gibraltar they had a large place to fidget in, but here? Crammed into a small motel room for days on end? It was rapidly becoming intolerable for all parties.

Reinhardt was seated at the table (the chair creaking worryingly under his weight), flicking through recent police activity when she approached him.

“Ah, Symmy-tra.” He said, accent still mangling her moniker. “Find somezing?”

“No, not yet.” Satya tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I wondered if I might take the afternoon off. My superiors at Vishkar have contacted me and asked, if I’m able, to visit a client briefly. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or two.”

Reinhardt considered. “Where would you be going?”

Satya named the street where L’Ouverture’s place of business was. “I’ll be seeing Monsieur L’Ouverture.” She explained. “Vishkar is interested in negotiating a deal with him.”

From the next room, McCree let out a startled yelp and Junkrat’s hysterical giggling rang through the air. As she watched, Reinhardt’s expression turned from exasperated to devious.

“On one condition.” He said, steepling his fingers.

“And that would be?” Satya asked, imagining that he’d want her to pick something up or maybe visit a location or something.

“Zat you take Junkrat with you.” He finished, and her jaw dropped.

Satya stared as Reinhardt stood up and made for the door, and she swiftly bolted after him, ignoring Hana and Lúcio as they giggled.

 **“Junkrat!”** Reinhardt boomed, and Satya nearly crashed into him as he stopped in the doorway. Beyond that, she saw Junkrat nearly jump a foot in the air at the sound of his name.

“Y’can’t prove _nuthin’_.” Junkrat exclaimed, and Satya nearly rolled her eyes.

Reinhardt let out a laugh. “Who said anything about zat? Symmy-tra needs a bodyguard. Go with her.”

Satya raised a brow and simply looked at Reinhardt, who waved his hand dismissively.

“Don’t look at me like zat. I don’t want anyone in zis city alone. Take Junkrat or stay here.” The glee Reinhardt felt from getting some Junkrat free hours was unmistakeable.

Satya sighed slightly and rubbed at her temple, and then her features snapped into a glare as Junkrat went to grab a grenade.

“No explosives.” Satya snapped, then shot a look at Reinhardt. “Or he doesn’t come.”

“You heard ze lady, Junkrat.” Boomed Reinhardt. “No bombs.”

Junkrat lifted a finger. “But-”

“ _No_.” Satya and Reinhardt said at the same time. The Junker deflated slightly and turned to look at Roadhog with pleading eyes, who grunted and jerked his head towards her.

“Ah, fine.” Junkrat grumbled as he unloaded his pockets, and Satya just knew she was going to have a headache by the end of this. Well, if Reinhardt insisted she supposed there wasn’t a whole lot she could do.

“Meet me by the van in five minutes.” Satya said crisply, then turned on her heel and strode back to room 7, where Mercy and Tracer were discussing leads.

“Goin’ somewhere?” Tracer asked, once she saw Satya gather her wallet and fix her hair.

“Yes, I have an appointment for Vishkar.” Satya replied, straightening her skirt. “I won’t be long.”

“I’m surprised Reinhardt is letting you, seeing as we’re all supposed to be looking for Jack.” Mercy said, a degree of surprise in her tone.

Satya grimaced. “Yes, well, I doubt he’d have agreed if he hadn’t just found the perfect way to get rid of Junkrat for a few hours.”

A wide, humorous smile appeared on Tracer’s face. “'E’s going _with_ you? Good luck!”

“Unfortunately.” Satya sighed. “But Reinhardt insisted. Here’s hoping I don’t end up locking him in the van.”

Tracer and Mercy both laughed at that, and Satya made her way from the hotel room and down to where the van was parked. Junkrat was leaning up against the side with his head tipped back, peg leg bouncing impatiently. She took a moment to call Sanjay quickly and tell him she was on her way to L’Ouverture, a fact he was very pleased with, and then moved towards the waiting Junker.

“Are you ready?” She asked without preamble, and Junkrat’s head snapped up.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Get in.”


	15. All Because of a Cup of Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee dates and terrorist attacks. What a fun way to end the day~

No one had spoken in nearly ten minutes. Junkrat drummed his fingers on his thighs, leg bouncing absently, and began to fiddle with the radio purely for something to do. Eventually, he decided to brave the storm and say something. He knew she didn’t particularly want him along, and knew that she was annoyed at how he was dressed (she’d forced him to go and find a shirt literally a second before they left, hence the reason he now had a ratty orange singlet on).

“So, uh, where’re we goin’?” He asked, bright curiosity in his tone.

Symmetra looked across at him; she might be in the driver’s seat, but she wasn’t driving, for she’d put the hovering vehicle on autopilot after inputting their destination. Unfortunately for him, the address was in German, and for someone who could barely read English? Well. He wasn’t even going to try.

“I have a meeting with a potential client.”

Junkrat took her answer as a good sign, though he was still treating her as if she were as stroppy as she’d been on the plane just to be on the safe side. He knew it had been several days since then, but who knew if she held grudges? “Yeah? Who?”

Symmetra flicked him a glance as the van made a turn onto a busier road and then picked up speed.

“His name is Arnaud L’Ouverture.”

Junkrat wrinkled his nose. “Is he a suit?”

“He is a multimillionaire property magnate.”

“Bleck. A suit.”

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Symmetra smoothed her skirt neatly before replying.

“Seeing as you obviously hold a low opinion of him, I suppose it’s a good thing you won’t be meeting him.”

Junkrat frowned at her. “Wait, what? Didn’t Reinhardt say I had t'stay-”

“I know what Reinhardt said.” She interrupted smoothly, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked down. The movement was so distracting he had to force himself to blink. “But listen, Junkrat. This meeting will be… rather sensitive. I must ask you to remain outside.”

“Oh.” Welp, it was obvious she didn’t want him around. Junkrat attempted to ignore the disappointment clawing at his lungs. “Well, guess that’s fair. Might think Vishkar’s gone dodgy with Junkers hangin’ around, eh?” He paired it with a giggle, using humour to conceal his feelings, and to his surprise, Symmetra smiled.

“He might, yes. Thank you for understanding.” She smoothed her hair again. “L’Ouverture’s offices are in the city centre, so there will be shops and things for you to occupy yourself with.”

 _Shops, eh?_ Junkrat wiggled bored fingers; he might just amuse himself with flogging a few bits and bobs.

Just then, a thought occurred to him. “Hang on a tic – L’over–tour, that sounds French.” He squinted at her. “Isn’t Austria kinda… German?”

Symmetra smiled at him then, and Junkrat grinned, his tongue finding a golden tooth. Maybe she wasn’t so angry if he could make her smile.

“Austria is ‘kind of’ German.” She agreed. “But L’Ouverture is French. A native of Bordeaux, I believe.”

“Roight.” As if he had any idea where the hell ‘Bordo’ was. Junkrat’s fingers twitched in his lap and he set about manipulating the digits of his mechanical hand with those of his good one. “So, uh, will we be out long?” He snickered then. “Least it won’t be as long as it took t’get here.”

“It shouldn’t take us that much longer to arrive.” Symmetra’s brows drew together slightly then. “Junkrat, I find myself rather glad to have you alone now.”

His breath escaped him in a rush, and Junkrat stared. That had been the last thing he was expecting, and shock made him reply like an idiot. “What? _Why?”_

A tiny smile curved at the side of her mouth. “So that I may apologise for my conduct when we were flying here.”

“Oh.” Junkrat rubbed at his chin. He hadn’t been expecting that, either. “Er… y'don’t hafta apologise…” He mumbled, and Symmetra waved a dismissive hand at him.

“Of course I do. I can’t imagine it would be pleasant, to find yourself suddenly gagged like that.” She grimaced slightly. “My only excuse was that you had both ignored frequent and repeated requests to stop…” Symmetra finished this off with a pointed look, and Junkrat managed a rather nervous giggle. He had no idea how to respond to her apology. Absolutely no idea at all.

“I know we were both bein’ a buncha shits.” Junkrat eked out finally, then amended his statement. “Tin can was worse but. Don’t blame ya for snappin'.”

A slight smile curved her lips, and Junkrat was pleased with himself for not fucking up the conversation completely yet.

“I’m glad of that.” Symmetra replied softly, and then adjusted the hem of her skirt. “Though I must say, I am surprised you gave up the fight so easily.”

Junkrat squinted at her, confused. “What? I woulda kept arguin’, but there was the minor matter of bein’ gagged-”

“No, not that.” Symmetra gazed out of the windscreen for a moment. “I meant once I had gagged you, and you were texting me. I fully expected you to argue longer.”

… _Oh_. Junkrat watched her suspiciously. Why was she bringing this up? Seemed like a funny sort of subject. “Didn’t see the point.” He said cautiously. “Thought ya’d only say no.” _And then ya went an’ did it straight away for that bloody half-bot_ , his mind supplied poisonously.

“Actually…” Symmetra met his gaze, and then her warm golden eyes flicked away. The look on her face made it appear like she was both anxious to say her piece, and yet was choosing her words carefully. “I fully intended to release you.” A slightly embarrassed expression touched her face. “I wanted to make you sweat, but you gave up too soon.”

Junkrat slumped back in his seat, feeling both stunned and confused. _That’s why? An’ then, with the tin can…_

“And that’s when Genji asked for release.” Symmetra continued, somehow managing to make shrugging her shoulders look elegant. “I had been planning to release you both, so I did.” She paused slightly, then added delicately, “It must have been a little confusing, to have your own request refused and then have Genji’s accepted a second later.”

Junkrat stared. _How the bloody hell?_ Did she know? Had she heard? A very uncomfortable feeling dropped into his gut like a stone. She’d hit the nail right on the head, and he thought furiously, trying to figure it out. Symmetra knew, somehow, the exact reason he’d been in a bad mood following their arrival in Vienna. Did she know? Or was this the worlds luckiest guess? He realised she was waiting for an answer and scrabbled to say something.

“Uh, it was a bit.” He stammered, dragging his fingers through his hair.

“Well, I apologise.” Symmetra turned a slight yet knowing smile on him. “If only you’d pressed the point more…” She let her sentence trail off, and then the full enormity of what she was saying hit him.

“Wait. Are y’sayin’ that if I’d talked more, I’d have gotten m’self out of it?” Junkrat tipped his head back in disgust. “The _one time_ I shut up…”

Symmetra laughed then, a slight feminine sound that made him sit up straight to watch her.

“It is rather ironic.” She agreed, but Junkrat barely heard her over his annoyance at himself. God, he couldn’t believe it. She’d just been fucking with him? Junkrat had been under the impression that Symmetra was too serious for anything like that. A giggle rose in his throat as he ran back over her words. She wanted to make him sweat? He almost let the innuendo escape, almost told her she didn’t need to gag him to do that, but he caught it just in time, biting his tongue to shut himself up.

The GPS beeped then, and spoke, alerting them that their destination was just up ahead. Momentarily distracted, Junkrat peered out of the windows at the buildings around him. Like the other old European cities he’d visited while on his crime spree with Hog, most buildings appeared to be incredibly ancient, full of crumbling architecture that seemed to favour form over function. Now, however, they were in the city centre, and interspersed amongst the centuries old buildings were modern additions. The van pulled up outside one such construction.

“All right.” Symmetra said crisply, undoing her seatbelt. “I doubt I’ll be longer than two hours.” She pointed down the next street. “If you walk down there, there is a shopping centre you can visit.” She paused then, and gave him an odd look. “Please don’t get into any _trouble_.”

The emphasis she placed on the word made him laugh, and Junkrat fought to control his giggling.

“I won’t!” He said gleefully. “Promise!”

Symmetra gave him a suspicious look. “Very well.” She said, turning to open the door. “I will text you in an hour or so.”

Junkrat got out as well, and once Symmetra had locked the van and spoken to the security guard at the door of the French bloke’s office, Junkrat found himself whistling a tune as he strolled down the streets of Vienna, looking for that shopping centre.

He found it eventually, and set to work with occupying himself. Junkrat’s first priority was walking the itch out of his bones – he’d basically been sitting for several days, and the amount of energy built up felt like it was strangling him. He walked for an hour straight, ignoring the looks he got for his prosthetics, and speedwalked up and down escalators, into shops and out of them, to the toilets and out again, round and around through the different levels until he began to feel a little tired. Then, Junkrat turned his attention to… more material matters.

He nicked some chocolate and munched on it while looking about for more things that might just catch his fancy. Junkrat stood peering into the window of a jewellery shop, debating trying to make off with some of those gold chains he could see twinkling enticingly, but the shop was fairly upscale, and the snooty looking woman behind the counter was giving him the stink eye. He ended up slouching off after a few minutes, reasoning that while he _could_ just smash through the glass and flog what he wanted, he’d end up having to flee the area, and he highly doubted Symmetra would be pleased with him.

Junkrat ended up mooching around the shops for a little while longer, stealing a wallet from some random woman’s handbag, rifling through it to take her money, and then left it on a table at a nearby café. Then, he spotted something that made a hollow weight form in the pit of his gut. Across from him stood a bookstore.

Junkrat had seen quite a few of these while on his travels with Hog, but he’d never gone in. What was the point? He couldn’t read anything there. The longer he stared at the shelves of books, however, the more he began to feel… excited. Junkrat found himself entering the shop, hope unfurling in his chest. Symmetra had been teaching him, so maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to grab any book off the shelf and read it, and he’d actually _know_ the words- he deflated as he looked at the book in his hands. The words were utterly incomprehensible, and he flicked through several more in rising panic.

Symmetra’s lessons hadn’t done anything. He couldn’t read a single word – wait. Utter relief flowed through him as he realised something very important. He was in Vienna, which was in Austria, and the main language here was German. The books were all in _German_. Junkrat giggled to himself for being so stupid and left the books scattered haphazardly over a nearby table.

Junkrat was right in the middle of eying an expensive looking leather belt when his phone buzzed. Digging it out of his pocket, he furrowed his brows and set to reading whatever Symmetra had sent him.

 **{96856} Symmetra  
** I’m done. Where are you?

He squinted at it until he was ninety percent sure of what it said, then laboriously typed in his reply.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
shop ill com bak

Junkrat hit send and then loped towards the exit, wondering for the millionth time if she’d be able to read whatever incomprehensible garbage he’d written. His phone vibrated again, and he pulled it again from his pocket.

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
I’m waiting

Junkrat made a face once he deciphered the words, yet picked up the pace. He found Symmetra standing by the van, on the phone, so he loitered near her, listening curiously to whatever language she was speaking in. She hung up relatively quickly, and he couldn’t help drawing nearer to voice his curiosity.

“What language was that?” Junkrat inquired, and Symmetra smiled slightly.

“Hindi.” She replied. “That was my boss, Sanjay. I was updating him on my meeting with L’Ouverture.”

“Yeah? How’d it go? What’d the suit say?”

Symmetra shrugged one shoulder elegantly. “Well enough, I think. He seemed receptive to the idea of selling.”

Junkrat shaded his eyes with his hands as he faced the afternoon sun, weak as it was in these drippy European countries. “Sellin’? Sellin’ what?”

“Land.” She said primly. “Remember that I told you he was a property magnate?”

“Ah, roight.” Junkrat bounced on the ball of his foot. “So we leavin’ now?”

He’d thought they’d go straight back (to _prison_ , his mind supplied as he thought of the cramped hotel room), but to his surprise (and delight) Symmetra hesitated.

“Well…” She said slowly. “We still have a little time before Reinhardt expects us back. What do you say to coffee? We could bring some back for everyone else too. I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

“Sure they would too.” Junkrat agreed. “T’be honest, if it means I get more time outta that pokey joint, I’m down.”

“Then its settled.” Symmetra locked the van and pocketed the key. “Come, let’s find a café up here.”

Junkrat couldn’t supress the giggle and the excitement welling up in him. More time away from that pokey little hotel room! And – more time alone with Symmetra. He touched his tongue to his tooth and pushed at it, wondering if her mind had jumped to the same conclusion his had, but he doubted it. She wouldn’t think those things about anybody, probably, much less _him_.

Junkrat fell into step beside her as they began walking down the street, and searched for something to say.

Her phone call came back to him. “Do y'like him? Y’boss?” He asked, dragging his fingers through his hair, and Symmetra looked at him curiously.

“What an odd question.” She replied, and he shrugged.

“‘S fair. He’s yer boss, so he’s even suit-ier than you. Hard t’imagine anyone likin’ a suit.”

She huffed a slight exasperated laugh. “Of course you don’t. But I do. He is a fair man, intelligent and kind. Does that answer your question?”

Junkrat pretended to consider. “Hn, I dunno… Doesn’t really sound like a regular suit. Maybe he’s a suit like y’are.”

Symmetra gave him a suspicious sidelong glance. “A suit like _me?_ What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

Junkrat shrugged and grinned at her. “Y’know. Y’ain’t a proper a suit.”

Symmetra raised a brow. “And how do you figure that?”

He shrugged again. “A proper suit wouldn’ta offered t’teach me t’read. Not without somethin’ in return.”

Her face softened then. “Oh.” Symmetra went to say something else as they reached the doors to the mall, but Junkrat stopped and peered through the glass.

“Uh.” He said, and turned to scan the street for a quick getaway. “Let’s not.”

Symmetra frowned and looked through the doors to see an agitated looking mother surrounded by her children as she gesticulated to the two policemen taking notes as they listened.

“What’s happening?” Symmetra asked, moving as if to step closer.

“Ah – well, funny story, really.” Junkrat giggled and jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the woman. “This is all, y’know, a guess, an’ I don’t speak German, but I’d say she’s tellin’ the coppers ‘bout someone nickin’ her wallet.”

It didn’t take Symmetra long to put two and two together. “ _Junkrat_.” She exclaimed, hands on her hips. “Did you-?”

“Yeah, but let’s not get all excited.” He said, and shooed her in the other direction. Symmetra let herself be herded, but still looked indignant, and he just knew he was gonna be on the receiving end of a lecture.

“I cannot _believe_ this.” Symmetra said slowly, scowling at him as he led her down a smaller street, where busy Austrians crossed the pavement, and – thankfully – he could see a café sign up ahead. “Did I or did I not tell you to _stay out of trouble?”_

“Dunno what the problem is.” Junkrat avoided looking at her, an amused grin plastered across his features. “Not like I kept it or nuthin’.”

“Oh.” Symmetra frowned up at him. “Then why take it?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t have her bag zipped. Too temptin’.”

Symmetra was silent for a moment, and he turned to grin at her.

“That.” She declared. “Is the worst excuse for theft I have _ever_ heard.”

He shrugged and bounced on the ball of his feet, shockies in his knee squeaking from the movement, and then he danced around to stand in front of her. “Ain’t ‘sposed t’be one.”

Symmetra blew out her breath. “You-” She said snippily. “-are impossible.”

“Heard that before.” Junkrat said cheekily, and she rolled her eyes. In the next second, however, all emotion fell from her face as she stared at something behind him then twisted around at lightning speed to glance over her shoulder, and then she grabbed his wrist and yanked him into the nearest doorway.

“Wha-?” Junkrat attempted to twist around and see what was going on, but Symmetra stepped close. Much too close. He froze, staring down at her with wide eyes.

“Uh – ‘Metra, what-”

“Put your hands on my hips.” She hissed, and he blinked, his mouth falling open.

_“What?”_

“Do it!” She snapped, pinching his wrist, and Junkrat found himself shocked into movement. He settled his hands on her waist and swallowed hard as his brain shut down.

“What-?” His utterly fried mind attempted to direct his mouth to ask, but Symmetra flattened a hand across his mouth, her metal one smoothing up his bare arm to rest on his shoulder, causing goosebumps to rise across his flesh in response.

“Hush.” She murmured, drifting close enough that her hips nearly bumped his. “There are Talon agents at both ends of the street.”

He froze.

“What?” Junkrat attempted to twist around to see, but Symmetra grabbed his neck and yanked him down before he could. Christ, he hadn’t even noticed the Talon bastards. Junkrat cursed himself inside his head.

“No!” She hissed, glaring at him, now barely an inch away from his face. “Don’t look.” She did though, peering over his shoulder with fierce intensity, and Junkrat stared at her. Symmetra was so _close_ , nearly plastered right up against him. He could feel his ears reddening as he tried with every fibre of his being to get his brain working again, his whole body electrically aware of hers, mere millimetres away. He could even feel the heat of her body seeping through her clothes. When he came close to some semblance of having firing synapses again, Junkrat managed frowned at her.

“An’ we ain’t runnin’ _why?”_

“We won’t get out without being noticed.” She murmured back, and he blinked and swallowed, for she was now so close he could feel her breath against his cheek. “We may be recognised, and we don’t have weapons, do we?”

 _Fuck_. Now that she’d reminded him, Junkrat suddenly felt naked without his bombs. He should never have left them behind. Shit, if the Talon blokes didn’t kill him, Hog was gonna for sure.

Junkrat scowled. “So what’s this then?” He asked rather hoarsely as he flexed his fingers on her hips in emphasis, and her eyes flickered down for a moment as she wet her lips with her tongue, nearly killing him in the process.

“Public displays of affection tend to make people uncomfortable.” Symmetra tilted her head, and Junkrat realised he was close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes. She moved then, using her grip on him to tug him down further so she could whisper in his ear, breath warm enough against his skin to make him shiver. “Hopefully, if we look… _intertwined_ enough, their gaze ought to skip right over us.” Doubt and worry flashed across her features then. “Unless they know we’re here and they are boxing us in.”

Well, he guessed that made sense. The second part of her statement registered then, and Junkrat blinked. “Fuck. What if they are?” He murmured, and she shrugged slightly.

“We’ll worry about that if it happens.” She breathed. “I can shield us if need be, but hopefully whatever they’re doing here takes them past us.”

Junkrat nodded, then took the opportunity to duck down further. To all the world it’d look like he was nuzzling at her ear, but instead he scanned the street, his stomach sinking when he recognised the figures striding towards them. The talon agents were clad in black, weapons strapped tightly to their sides. They were evidently trying to blend in, as well as they were able, by not having their weapons out yet. “Twelve of ‘em, comin’ up fast.” He hissed in her ear, and Symmetra muttered something in her own language.

“There’s many more than that on my side. They seem to be surrounding those offices.” She breathed back. “I need to call Reinhardt-”

Junkrat nodded and kept watch while she carefully lifted a hand to her comm (of course she, the perfect agent, was still wearing hers. Junkrat thought of his, lying useless in his duffel bag along with his other bombs, and swore inside his head) and relayed their position and situation to Reinhardt. He scanned the street and nearly locked eyes with a Talon agent marching up the footpath. He swiftly turned his head to hide, and wound up with his nose buried in her thick, silky hair.

“They’re lookin’ at us.” He hissed as quietly as possible, and Symmetra stiffened in his hold. Junkrat felt his heartbeat speed up as the agent’s footsteps drew level with their position – and kept walking. He felt Symmetra give a tiny sigh of relief, and then he _really_ became hyperaware of her presence. Every breath drew in a deep lungful of her scent – she smelled sweet, yet with a deep woodsy undertone. He could have drunk her in for hours.

 _Aw, Christ, what’s she gotta be so close for-_ Junkrat swallowed hard, noting the way that with each breath, the fabric of her blouse brushed his chest. _Least I’m wearin’ a singlet,_ he thought with sour amusement. _Better than havin’ her up against bare skin_. Attempting to distract himself from the way her hips felt beneath his hands, Junkrat lifted his nose from her hair – _Christ, even her hair smells amazin’_ – and scanned the street.

“All clear this end.” He whispered. “We gotta scram.”

Symmetra nodded. “Say when.”

Junkrat scanned the street carefully once more, then dropped his hands from her waist and grabbed her wrist. “ _Now_.”

They burst from the cover of their little stone doorway and began to sprint down the street – and then gunfire rang out. Acting on instinct, Junkrat leapt behind the nearest car, pulling Symmetra with him as glass shattered and cityslickers screamed and ran, streaming down the pavement in droves. Symmetra crouched down beside him, eyes wide and face flushed. She avoided looking him in the eye, and Junkrat couldn’t help a grin.

“Heh.”

Symmetra’s gaze flashed to him and away, and she looked embarrassed under the annoyance. Then, a hail of bullets slammed into the ground and townies screamed and continued to run as Talon agents stormed the offices. Glass shattered and Junkrat narrowed his eyes, all his attention on the weapons. His fingers twitched, utterly empty of any grenades, and by Jesus he could use one now-

Symmetra gasped and grabbed his wrist, her fingers warm on his skin, and a second later Junkrat knew why as pulse bolts rained down from the skies and killed a Talon agent where he stood. A moment later and a man hit the ground and rolled, coming up firing. Junkrat stared, mouth agape, at the mask and visor, the jacket emblazoned with a large ‘76’, and then he ducked back behind the car as bullets slammed into it.

“76 is here!”  He heard Symmetra calling frantically into her comm. “-He’s engaging the Talon agents, I repeat, Soldier 76 is here-” Junkrat blocked everything else out as he watched 76 shoot the three remaining Talon guards dead and then march determinedly into the building, where there was a few seconds of silence before the gunfire started up more viciously than before, and no wonder – whereas before the Talon agents had been shooting to intimidate the cityslickers into clearing out or surrendering, they were now fighting for their lives against 76.

“Come on, _run_.” Symmetra ground out, launching to her feet and hauling him up by the wrist. Junkrat scrabbled to his feet and followed her, soon overtaking her despite the awkwardness of his gait, for she _was_ dressed in a tight skirt and heels.

They rounded the corner and had to throw themselves sideways as police cars screeched to a stop and officers burst out, guns drawn, charging up the street. Junkrat threw himself into another sheltered awning, out of sight as more and more police began to arrive and ran past him.

Symmetra stopped running and doubled back then. Junkrat felt terribly antsy, stuck here without his bombs, and what if-

“What are you _doing?”_ Symmetra cried, voice panicked, looking over her shoulder.

“Hidin’.” He replied, sneaking a peek towards the coppers and their flashing lights.

Symmetra narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

Junkrat jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Coppers might recognise me. Don’t really fancy bein’ arrested right now.”

She shook her head and tugged on his metal wrist. “Stop messing about! Reinhardt and the others have arrived. He wants us to get the van and rendezvous some distance away.”

“Wasn’t messin’ about.” Junkrat snapped. “‘M a wanted man, y’know.” He took a deep breath. “What about 76?” Swearing under his breath, he let Symmetra drag him with her, heedless of the police as she turned on her heel and ran across the street to get back to where they’d left the van parked.

Symmetra waved an exasperated hand as she ran. “I don’t know!”

They reached the van and jumped in, and Symmetra peeled out of the space in such a tight circle Junkrat had to grab the edges of his seat to avoid hitting the door. His eyes flicked towards her, taking in the way her face was set in serious lines as she drove. His gaze lowered almost involuntarily to her lips, and he inhaled a low breath when he recalled how those lips had been barely an inch away from his. Junkrat felt himself redden slightly. He looked away then, peering out the window to pretend he was watching behind them.

Traffic, unfortunately, was pandemonium. God only knew how Reinhardt and the others had gotten through the gridlock of panicked cityslickers trying to get as far away from the chaos as they could. Junkrat was mostly sour that he didn’t have any explosives and couldn’t go in to fight some Talon bastards himself.

“Where’re we goin’?” He asked as Symmetra stared impatiently at a red car that couldn’t decide if it was going left or right; she finally got fed up and went round it, right up on the curb.

The words that came out of her mouth were pure gibberish.

Junkrat squinted at her. “…Y’mind repeatin’?”

Symmetra huffed out a slight laugh before enunciating slowly. “ _Pötzleinsdorfer Schloßpark_. It is a park, a famous one.”

“Roight.” It figured; she must speak German as well.

Symmetra said it would ordinarily take roughly fifteen minutes to reach the park, but the congested streets and panicked townies meant that the trip took nearly half an hour. Once they got there, Symmetra parked the van and pointed at small pavilion (which he was informed was built in the Grecian style, whatever the hell that meant), said that Reinhardt had told her to wait near it, and wait they did.

Twenty minutes later, Junkrat was flat on his back with his seat as far back as it would go and fiddling with his prosthetics, doing everything he could to stop himself from staring at her. Every time he looked at her, the memory of her being so close flooded his senses, his palms tingling with the sensation of her hips beneath his touch. He told himself that she’d been saving their lives, but he couldn’t quite help himself. “Y’sure this is the right place?” He asked for the millionth time, and Symmetra’s patient voice was starting to lose that patience as she trawled social media and news sites for updates on the situation.

“I’m sure. Reinhardt gave me explicit directions.”

“Huh.” Junkrat sat up properly and peered at the rolling green lawns, so different to the grass he’d grown up with. “Didn’t ya say this park was famous?”

“Yes, it is a very old one. The original trees were planted in the late 1700s, I believe.”

Junkrat let out a low whistle. “That’s old.”

“It is.” Symmetra agreed, and then they lapsed into silence for another fifteen minutes until the others arrived. Junkrat had been busy attempting to unlock the glove box (he’d nearly succeeded), when another white van identical to theirs pulled up alongside them. Symmetra was out the door in half a second, and Junkrat scrabbled to get his door open as well.

He barely had one foot on the ground before a large hand closed around his arm and yanked him off his feet. Roadhog gave him a cursory once over and then shoved something into his arms; Junkrat looked down to see his duffel bag of bombs and giggled gleefully.

“Hog! Ya came through again! Woulda been nice if it’d been a smidge earlier but.”

Roadhog grunted irritably. “What happened?”

“Well, ‘Metra had her meetin’, an’ then we were walkin’ up the street and _bam!”_ Junkrat threw his arms out wide to simulate an explosion and nearly dropped his precious duffel. “Place was suddenly crawlin’ with Talon blokes, an’ then 76 showed up, somehow-” At that exact moment, Junkrat caught sight of the vigilante himself as he stepped down out of the back of the van, and nearly swallowed his tongue.

Standing a little way away, he could see Symmetra gesturing as she spoke intently to Reinhardt, surrounded by Mercy, Tracer, McCree and Genji. Looking around, he realised Hana and Lúcio weren’t there.

“Oi, where’s pipsqueak and Lúcio?” He asked.

“Stayed behind.” Roadhog said shortly. “MEKA’d take too long.”

“Roight.” Junkrat slipped some grenades into his pockets, instantly feeling better from the weight of them. “An’ 76? What’s the go?”

Roadhog merely shrugged, which was very helpful. Luckily, 76 himself soon stepped up to the plate.

“Have you got a safe place?”

Junkrat heard the soldier ask this question of Reinhardt, who informed him of their hotel rooms. 76 shouldered his rifle and climbed back into the van with a curt, “Let’s move.” To which McCree responded to before he even realised what he was doing. Reinhardt looked amused, but did as 76 asked; Junkrat clambered back into the van as Symmetra slid into the driver’s seat, while Roadhog and Tracer got into the back. They set off back to the hotel, where Junkrat was looking forward to getting some proper answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor Junkrat XD if they'd been there much longer his heart would have exploded. I'm looking forwards to the next chapter, where it'll be Symmetra who is flustered as heck
> 
> is the chapter title a shameless reference to Geronimo Stilton? yes


	16. Planning and Plotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya recovers from the afternoon, while 76 reveals what he's found - and they find themselves racing against the clock to prevent Talon from assassinating a prominent target.

Things were hectic in the hotel room. Satya was attempting to decompress, to calm herself down, and she was failing miserably. She’d wedged herself into the darkest corner and was sitting, attempting to sort through her thoughts, but everyone was being too loud. Satya played with the edge of her skirt, folding the fabric one way, and then the other.

The adrenaline had worn off some time ago, and now she was faced with the reality of her actions. The moment she’d realised Talon agents were stalking up the street, she’d snapped into motion, her only thought being concealment. Grabbing Junkrat and pulling him into a lover’s embrace had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. Public displays of affection tended to make observers look away, which was perfect. She’d acted on the assumption that Talon was not there for them, and she’d been right, which she was pleased about.

However… she could still feel the weight of Junkrat’s hands on her hips, the utterly bewildered look on his face when she’d slid her hand up his arm and tugged him towards her. She’d expected him to pull back, to make her work for their disguise, but he hadn’t. He’d seemed to get it almost instantly, and then… Satya bit her lip. He’d pulled her closer.

She did _not_ like that fact that try as she might… she hadn’t hated it.

Feeling more than overwhelmed, Satya excused herself briefly to walk to the bathroom, where she dabbed cool water on her cheeks then gripped the edge of the sink to breathe, eyes shut, until she felt herself calm somewhat. Despite the blessed relief of privacy, it didn’t stop her mind from wandering back to that moment in the street.

Those few moments had felt like an eternity as the Talon agents had looked at them – and Junkrat had burrowed beneath her hair to whisper in her ear. Satya acutely remembered the feel of his breath against her flesh and frowned at herself – these were not appropriate lines of thought. In her next breath, she dismissed her reaction. It was nothing more than her body becoming aware of another thoroughly invading her personal space.

 _There_ , Satya decided. That was it. She had constructed a plan (on the spur of the moment, she might add) to save both their lives and it had worked. That was it, and that trumped any feeling of discomfort she might have felt about it.

Still, Satya couldn’t help but wonder what had been running through Junkrat’s mind when he’d looked at her like he had. She shifted uneasily, recalling the way his ears had reddened slightly when she demanded he put his hands on her hips (actually, just thinking about the way she’d told a man to touch her like that was making her feel flustered), and then the look in his eyes. He’d looked so… earnest.

 Like he was pleased.

Which was an idea so utterly ridiculous Satya scolded herself for even entertaining the thought.

Sighing slightly, she reluctantly left the bathroom and made a beeline back to her seat, where she looked over at Morrison as he was being thoroughly chastised by Mercy for making them all think he was dead. A hint of a smile touched her mouth as Satya watched; when they’d arrived back at the hotel, Satya had thought it was McCree who was going to erupt on the former Overwatch leader. Instead, Mercy, pale faced and tight lipped, had shoved McCree aside and cornered Morrison herself, drilling her finger into his chest and shouting for nearly half an hour. Mercy had eventually tired herself out and contented herself to sit on the bed and watch as everyone else interrogated Morrison, but now she was back for more.

Satya and the other new recruits had dispersed around the edges of the room, allowing the original members space to speak with Morrison. Hana and Lúcio were sprawled on the floor quite close to the chair she’d constructed for herself, and Roadhog and Junkrat were wedged into their own corner – but she refused to look at or even _think_ about them.

Pharah was sitting on a bed, twitching anxiously – she’d been with the police for a while, barging in with her military rank and status as a high flying member of Helix security to help the Austrians coordinate things after Reinhardt and the others had taken care of the Talon agents, collected Morrison, and sped off. Pharah had arrived roughly ten minutes ago, practically kicking the door down in her hurry to get to Morrison and demand to know where her mother was.

Morrison had contacted Ana Amari then, who was apparently in the city after all – and now she was en route to the hotel, and everyone was tense and waiting for the knock on the door that would signal her arrival.

Satya continued fiddling with her skirt, wishing she had something more satisfying to occupy her fingers with. She could very easily make herself something out of hard light, but doing so would draw attention to her, attention she absolutely did not want. So she sat, still and silent as she twisted her skirt between her fingers. The whole situation had been incredibly unnerving, and what she wanted most in the world was to get some privacy, but she knew she wouldn’t get it here. All she could do was curl into her chair, block everyone else out and sift through her thoughts until she felt some semblance of calm again.

Nearly an hour passed, and Satya had mostly succeeded in calming herself. Her breathing was regular again, and her heart didn’t feel like it was about to leap out of her chest anymore. She still wished she could find somewhere quieter where she could be alone, but the sounds of everyone else were no longer grating overwhelmingly on her ears. It helped that the accusations and confrontations had halted, and now the room was fairly quiet, save for Morrison’s voice. She began to tune back into the conversation again, listening to Morrison as he gave an explanation for his presence in Austria. It seemed that he was continuing to break into government facilities even after teaming up with Amari again, and was seeking information about Overwatch – specifically, about the fall.

What he was doing at that particular office building at the exact right time, however, was even more interesting.

That set of offices, Morrison explained, was the headquarters of an event organiser, one who was working in tandem with two others to plan and prepare for a ball hosted by the United Nations, one that was to be held tomorrow night at Belvedere Palace. Morrison had been tracking two Talon agents while searching for their headquarters in the city, and overheard some of the plot – they were breaking into the event planner’s office in order to steal the guest list, which is why Morrison had intercepted the break in.

Talon, Morrison explained, was planning a hit on one of the guests.

“Which guest?” McCree inquired, his form casual and lazy, yet Satya could see that his mind was working intently.

“I’m not entirely sure.” Morrison said, sounding disgusted with this lack of information. “They’d already scanned the list and sent it through by the time I got in there. I’d say despite our intervention today, Talon will still go ahead with the assassination attempt.”

“Do we know if they’ll use regular baddies, or go with the Widowmaker?” Tracer’s voice was slightly strained.

Morrison shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. According to what I’ve researched about the ball, it’s a red carpet event. It’d be easy pickings for a sniper while their target walks inside from the limo.”

This whole time, Satya had been thinking curiously… she pulled out her phone and started scrolling, searching for images of the Belvedere. From what she knew of the surrounding topography, she thought it would be fairly hard for a sniper to pull off a good shot.

“So we gonna crash this party?” McCree drawled. “Get some fancy duds and infiltrate?”

“That was my plan.” Morrison looked around the room. “Ana was going to be my backup, but if any of you wish to join…” The question hung in the air for a fraction of a second before McCree scoffed and Reinhardt’s boisterous voice rang out.

“What are you talking about? Of course we will!” The German man boomed. “We can’t sit by while Talon sneaks right under our noses!”

“Reinhardt is right.” Mercy said firmly. “This is officially an Overwatch mission now.”

Morrison stared at her for a long while, and then he reached up and removed his visor. Gasps were heard around the room as the rest of Morrison’s scars came into view, and he gave a wry smile.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d hear those words again.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Cried Tracer, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “We’ve got work t’do!”

That seemed to seal the deal, and the plotting began. They were only a short way into things, however, when there came a knock at the door. Satya saw Mercy squeeze Pharah’s hand supportively, and then Pharah stood up, went to the door, and opened it.

“Fareeha…”

_“‘Ami…”_

Satya caught sight of an older woman with grey hair wrapped in dark robes, and then Pharah stepped out, closing the door behind her.

Satya could only imagine the kind of emotional reunion going on behind the door, and when the door opened and Pharah and her mother stepped through, she assessed the older woman with thoughtful curiosity.

Ana Amari looked cheerful enough, and Satya noted that her tattoo was very similar to the one Pharah wore beneath her own eye. A family tradition, perhaps. She had a rifle strapped across her back and a hood up to cover her hair, and Satya decided that yes, she did look like the sniper she was reputed to be.

“Ana!” Cried Mercy, jumping up to embrace the woman, and the rest of the original Overwatch members followed suit.

“It’s good to see you all again!” Amari declared joyfully, then poked McCree hard in the shoulder. “Still wearing that God awful hat, I see.”

Rather than look offended, McCree looked delighted about the insult. “You really are back.”

Amari patted his arm affectionately. “Of course I am. Now.” She turned to survey the side of the room where Satya was sitting beside Hana and Lúcio. “Who are these babies?”

McCree snickered and gestured at them. “New recruits.” He drawled. “Here we’ve got Hana, Lúcio, Symmetra, Junkrat, an’ Roadhog.”

Amari and Morrison both came over to inspect them.

“Isn’t that the Vishkar logo?” Amari asked, brows raised as she took in Satya’s blouse.

By this time, Satya had stood up, and she inclined her head. “I work for Vishkar. You might say that I’m on loan here.”

“Ah.” Amari looked thoughtful. “What do you do?”

Satya raised her hands and formed a bright wireframe between her palms. “I am an architech.” She said, letting the light wink out again.

“Ooh.” Amari moved closer while Morrison busily inquired as to who, exactly, had let a mere child onto the team while Hana bristled at him.

“Tell me, how long have you had this wonderful prosthetic?” Amari peered at her arm with bright enthusiasm, and Satya looked down at the crystal blue embedded in her palm herself.

“Eight years now.” She replied concisely.

“Eight? Marvellous. You must be rather talented to have the prosthetic. I was friends with an architech many years ago, but he only ever had the gauntlet.”

“Indeed?” Satya brushed her hair back. “What was his name? Perhaps I know him.”

“Sherif Hadad. He went to the academy when he was younger and then returned to Egypt. He did a great deal of architectural work in Cairo.” Amari tilted her head. “He’s dead now. Had a stroke a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Satya said automatically, turning the name over in her mind. “But I don’t think I knew him after all.”

Amari waved a hand. “Oh well. I’m pleased to meet another architech though. You’re an interesting breed.”

Satya’s lips twitched. “As I am pleased to meet you, Ms Amari. I’ve heard interesting things about you.”

“All flattering, I’m sure.” Amari winked and laughed. “But call me Ana. Everyone else does.”

Satya nodded her head, and Ana went over to talk to Lúcio as Morrison came over to stand before her instead. He’d just come from the Junkers, and still looked a little steamed at Junkrat’s blasé attitude towards rank.

Morrison started off by asking her exactly what her role was at Overwatch, and Satya smoothed the front of her blouse before replying.

“Vishkar has authorised me to do whatever is asked of me, unless it could have a detrimental effect on Vishkar or any corporation we work with.”

Morrison nodded. “I see. And Vishkar is comfortable with having you go on missions?”

Satya lifted her chin. “As I said, Vishkar has authorised me to do what I deem necessary in pursuit of Overwatch’s main goals.”

Morrison nodded. “Right. Carry on then.” He turned and walked towards McCree, and, still not overly inclined towards conversation, Satya sank back down in her chair to think. Talon had stolen the guest list for the ball? That was rather interesting, because Satya knew exactly what ball they were talking about. In fact, it was an annual event, one that she had attended as Vishkar’s representative twice before.

“So.” Ana said loudly. “What’s been happening? The police have a pretty large chunk of the city cordoned off.”

“Talon was after the guest list for the ball tomorrow night.” Morrison growled. “And they got it, too.”

Ana raised a brow. “Damn. Got past you, did they?”

Morrison frowned at her. “They’re planning a hit on one of the guests, I know that much. So we’re going to have to infiltrate the ball.”

Ana nodded. “All right. How?”

Morrison rubbed at his chin. “Haven’t quite got that far yet.” He muttered. “But I intend to start planning now.” With that, he sat down at the table and motioned everyone over.

Ana had brought a bag with her, one that Morrison had asked her to bring, apparently. In it was what they had thus far collected about Belvedere Palace. Originally built in the 1600s, the palace was a source of great architectural interest to Satya, even though the elaborate rococo design had ceased to have much influence in modern architecture, but she had always thoroughly enjoyed her chances to explore and examine the palace. Somewhat eclipsed by other Imperial palaces, the place had been rarely inhabited following the mid 1700s, and was converted to a museum, which was why it was now open to host functions such as this.

“Is it Upper or Lower Belvedere where the ball is being held this year?” She inquired, making Morrison frown at her.

“Upper.” He said, to which Symmetra nodded. She knew, of course, but she wanted to see how far they’d gotten.

“There’s an upper? What, is it like two floors?” Asked Hana, faced scrunched up in confusion, and Satya smiled slightly.

“Hardly. There are two separate palaces on the grounds. Lower Belvedere was built in the late 1600s, and Upper Belvedere was built in the early 1700s.”

“Have you been there?” Morrison asked, frowning at her over a sheaf of paper.

Satya inclined her head. “I have. I’ve attended the ball as a representative of Vishkar a few times. I went last year. It’s quite an enjoyable evening.”

Morrison began to look excited. “So you can tell us how to get in?”

“I can tell you that you won’t.” She countered, then uncrossed her legs as several people in the room bristled.

“Doubtin’ our talent, are we?” Drawled McCree. Satya shot him a sickly sweet smile.

“Of course not. But the Belvedere will be playing host to some very important people. The American president was there last year, and she may be again this year. Key members of the European royal families attend, and you have government officials, socialites, multimillionaires…” Satya crossed her legs again. “Not to mention, it is a heritage listed site that is also a museum filled with quite a few priceless artefacts. You will find it quite difficult to get past the security system.”

“How do you know so much about the palace?” Mercy asked.

Satya shrugged one shoulder as elegantly as she could. “Vishkar is a patron of the government department that is in charge of the upkeep of the palace.”

“Isn’t _that_ a coincidence?” Lúcio’s phrasing made her narrow her eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re implying, but I can assure you, there’s nothing peculiar in it. Vishkar happens to have a vested interest in heritage sites. We make donations and are on the board of directors of quite a number of sites with historical importance. We are patrons of other palaces and castles across Europe, not just in Vienna.” Satya paused, then decided to really drive the point home. “You could name just about any country in the world, and odds are that we would be offering funding in some way. Paying the bills tends to endear you to local governments.”

Lúcio frowned but didn’t press the point, much to her satisfaction.

Morrison tapped the sheaf of papers then. “So, if you think it’ll be too heavily guarded for us to easily get in, what are your thoughts on Talon’s plans? You know the building and the event. Can you give us any insight?”

Satya thought for a moment. “The ball is always the same, to avoid having to plan something different every single year. They only change the theme. So.” She traced her finger over a map of the grounds. “Once the guests have entered the grounds, they will come up along this gravel drive to the front steps of Upper Belvedere, and then move through the palace until they reach the Grand Gallery, which is where the actual ball is held. There’s a room to the side where refreshments are kept, and the bathrooms, of course, but other than that the guests are relatively contained, until the midnight fireworks, where everyone comes out into the gardens.”

“Do y’think Talon could get in?” Tracer asked, tilting her head to the side.

Satya pushed her hair back over her shoulder as she considered. “At the moment, I can see an assassination happening two ways; the first would be a sniper positioned somewhere during the arrivals.” She thought for a moment. “Though this would be quite difficult, because there are few rooftops close enough to the palace, and Talon would be hard pressed getting a sniper on top of the Belvedere itself. It’d be difficult having a sniper in the grounds, too, because the immediate area around the palace is quite open.”

“So what are you thinking?” Ana asked, arms folded as she listened.

“I believe they’d have some way to get into the palace. Perhaps an invitation as a guest themselves, or they’ve infiltrated the staff. Then again…” Satya leaned back slightly, frowning. “Due to the level of security, it would be hard for whoever it is to escape once they’d made the hit, presuming the murder has witnesses.”

“Maybe they’re sending someone who doesn’t care about whether they live or die.” Offered Mercy.

“Or maybe it’s someone who don’t care ‘bout any casualties they rack up on th’ way out.” McCree said darkly, to which Morrison nodded.

“That’s likely.” A shadow passed over his face then. “Or… they might send the Reaper.”

Tracer nodded slowly. “That’d make sense. With his smoke thingo he’d get out pretty speedy.”

“He would.” Ana said slowly, and she exchanged a significant look with Morrison.

“Mom, who is the Reaper?” Asked Pharah from where she sat beside her mother. “We saw you pull his mask off in the security footage from Giza. It looked like you recognised him.”

Ana was quiet for a long moment. “…I did recognise him. Jack?” At the question, Morrison turns away, his hands gripping the back of his chair tightly.

“Who was it?” Pharah asked, her voice laden with increasing frustration.

“Gabe.” The word comes from Morrison and the room freezes over, staring as one towards his back. “It was Gabe.”

Satya’s frowned slightly as she stared at the ‘76’ emblazoned on Morrison’s back. Gabe? As in… Gabriel Reyes? The leader of Blackwatch? That was the only ‘Gabe’ she could think of… but wasn’t he _dead?_

“No.” McCree’s voice was hushed, agonised. “Can’t be.”

Ana reached across and squeezed McCree’s arm sympathetically. “I’m sorry Jesse.” She murmured. “But it’s true. He’s…” she shivered slightly, an expression of remembered horror on her face. “Different now.”

Mercy, Satya noticed, looked exceptionally uncomfortable, and Genji appeared to notice too, for he leaned down to murmur something in her ear, to which she shook her head and looked down.

As Satya turned her head to avoid staring, she caught Junkrat’s eye – he was looking at her. Satya looked quickly away, pulling her hair down over her shoulder to hide her face. Come to think of it, Junkrat was being _very_ uncharacteristically quiet. For a moment, she wondered why.

“…Gabe?” Asked Lúcio with a confused air. “Can I get an explanation?”

“Gabriel Reyes.” Morrison growled out, turning back around. “He’s still alive.”

Mercy looked stricken, and there was a grim silence.

“So what do we do?” Asked McCree, sounding rather shell-shocked still; his was the tone of a man who hadn’t even begun to process what he’d just been told.

“We have to get into ze ball, of course.” Reinhardt said. “Reaper mightn’t even be zere, but we must stop ze assassination.”

“Reinhart’s right.” Ana said firmly. “If Reaper shows up we can deal with him there. Otherwise, we need to focus on whatever poor soul Talon’s after.”

Morrison nodded. “Right. We need to figure out how to get into the palace, assuming that Talon isn’t going to try to snipe their target during the arrivals.” His gaze flashed up to meet hers. “But if Symmetra thinks that would be difficult, we need to be prepared to get inside.”

Satya had a thought then. “I do think it’d be the most likely way.” She said slowly.

“But how do we get in?” Asked Hana.

“Maybe we can forge ze invitations?” Rumbled Reinhardt, but Satya shook her head even as she thought furiously. She had an idea.

“That won’t work.” She said absently. “The invites have chips embedded into them to prevent forgeries.”

“Damn.” Morrison looked down at the maps spread out before him. “Anyone else got any ideas?”

“Actually…” Satya’s brows furrowed as she thought, then met Morrison’s expectant gaze. “Like I said earlier, Vishkar is one of the Belvedere’s main benefactors. Give me a minute, and I may be able to pull some strings.”

“Well whadaya know.” McCree drawled. “Looks like havin’ Vishkar on the team is handy after all.”

Satya eyed him. “Your support is greatly appreciated.” She said dryly, and Genji snickered loudly.

“Do it.” Morrison said. “You think you can get us in?”

“I can’t make any guarantees.” Satya said, seeking to erase that doubt. “But I might be able to do something.”

Morrison nodded. “Do it quickly, then.”

Satya nodded and stood up, pulling out her phone to dial Sanjay’s number, and crossed the room to open the door and go outside. They wouldn’t be able to understand the Hindi words, but she preferred the privacy. The glorious feeling of being alone seeped into her bones as she went to sit in the lobby, and then Sanjay answered.

“Satya, I’m glad to hear from you.” He said in greeting, a frown in his tone. “We’ve had reports from our Austrian branch… were you anywhere near the attack?”

“I was.” She said with a grimace. “Fortunately, none of us were harmed, yet Talon got away with their objective.”

“Did they have an objective? The reports are saying that it was a random hit to cause fear.”

“That is because the offices they attacked belonged to an event planner, which only _seems_ random.” Satya explained. “The local news outlets haven’t put two and two together yet.”

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense.” Sanjay said. “What were they after?”

“A guest list. For the ball at the Belvedere tomorrow night.”

There was a brief silence. “What do they want with the Belvedere?” Sanjay’s tone was guarded, and Satya knew why; he’d been with her the first time she attended the ball, back when she was still under his tutelage. He would not like to see the palace damaged or diminished any more than she did.

“Overwatch has found out that they are going to try and assassinate a high ranking guest. You know how much publicity the ball gets, and if they succeed the whole world will know in an instant.”

Sanjay was quiet for a moment. “But you’re not just calling me to inform me, are you? What do you need?”

Satya half smiled; Sanjay didn’t miss a beat. “I need to get into the ball. Who knows what Talon is planning? The palace itself could be severely damaged, not to mention what would happen if their target is high ranking enough. I need, along with the rest of the team here, to get inside and stop them.”

“Let me see what I can do.” Sanjay said swiftly, and she could hear him typing. “Is that all?”

“A copy of the guest list would be very helpful, if you can get it. Blueprints of Upper Belvedere, and invitations. If you can’t get us invitations, then perhaps the security teams might require an addition?”

“Let me see what I can do.” He said again. “I’ll call you back – I need to make some calls.”

Satya signed off and then sat quietly, hands folded in her lap as she waited for Sanjay to call back. The plan, if he could get them in, would require some working – they would need outfits, supplies. They couldn’t go in dressed in their uniforms. They wouldn’t make it a single step inside the gates.

Several long minutes later, her phone rang. Satya answered it immediately.

“Satya?” Sanjay sounded beyond pleased with himself. “I’ve succeeded in acquiring some invitations for you.”

Pure relief flowed through her. “Wonderful.” She said warmly. “Our only other alternative was breaking and entering, but seeing as it’s the Belvedere I’ve been extremely loathe to do so.”

“Quite right, too.” Sanjay said, sounding angry at the mere thought. “However, there’s a small catch. I went to my superiors and put your case to them, and they agreed that stopping Talon’s assassination attempt as well as preserving the Belvedere is of critical importance. You know Amit Kapoor, of course? Well, he actually spearheaded the Belvedere deal himself, and he has instructed me to tell you to not let any harm come to the palace. It is his involvement which meant I could get your invitations approved at the last minute, but there are a few conditions that come with it.”

“What are they?” Satya asked, brows furrowed slightly, thanking various gods that Sanjay had spoken to Kapoor. Once Sanjay had listed off the prerequisites, she hung up and went back inside the hotel room. Morrison stood up when she entered, an expectant look on his face.

“Well?”

Satya smiled in satisfaction at the people gathered around the table, noting that Junkrat was watching her with a very strange look on his face. She looked away. “I have two invitations, each with a plus one.”

“How’d you manage that?” Cried Hana curiously over the top of everyone else.

“I got lucky.” Satya sat down in her seat again, smoothing her skirt before she continued. “One of my superiors happens to have personally invested in the Belvedere deal, and he’s quite horrified at what Talon could potentially do. He personally secured the invitations.”

“Well, it’s better than breaking in.” Ana said to Morrison, who was clearly thinking hard. “But who will go in?”

“Ah, yes, well, these invitations come with some conditions.” Satya interjected before things could get carried away.

“Like what?” Drawled McCree curiously.

“These invitations are Vishkar issued, which means that a Vishkar representative must be among the party.”

Reinhardt nodded. “So you get dolled up in a pretty dress for ze ball. Zat’s easy enough.”

Morrison nodded. “It’s doable.”

Satya nodded back at him. “So who else?”

There was silence for a moment, until Ana spoke up.

“Send Angela.” She said, waggling her brows. “She’s a humanitarian, they’ll eat it up.”

Angela looked rather startled, but Morrison looked approving.

“What do you say, Angela?” He asked, and she shrugged.

“I’ll go, but I don’t have anything decent to wear-”

There were some wrinkled noses as this flaw was uncovered.

“Spend the afternoon dress shopping?” Hana offered.

To Satya’s displeasure, she noticed that Junkrat had tuned out of the conversation entirely; he sat and fiddled with a bomb instead. Oh well. At least he wasn’t making inane comments and reminding her of this afternoon.

Satya bit her lip as she inadvertently reminded herself of the afternoon – of Junkrat’s body pressed against hers. He looked terribly scrawny from afar, but it was rather disconcerting to find that far from it – he possessed a wiry, lean musculature that was far from unappealing – Satya shook her head to dismiss the thought, and Morrison raised a brow, having noticed.

She scrambled to find an excuse. “That won’t be necessary.” Satya said quickly, then calmed herself and continued. “Vishkar has an understanding with several shops in the city. I will be heading to some this afternoon, after I pick up the invitations from headquarters. You are welcome to join me, and I can put your purchases on my account.”

Mercy looked a little taken aback. “Oh, that isn’t necessary, I can pay-”

“I insist.” Satya said firmly. “It will look better on paper if you appear to be connected to Vishkar.”

Most people nodded their acceptance of this, but Lúcio was frowning.

“How come Vishkar’s got so many connections in Vienna? Seems a bit _coincidental_ to me.”

“Not at all.” Satya said with an elegant shrug, refusing to let him get under her skin with his pointed remarks and disguised accusations. “Vishkar has similar understandings in cities across the world; it is almost ridiculous how many times I or others in my line of work are informed we need formal clothing for a surprise function.”

“What is your ‘line of work’, exactly?” Asked Pharah. “I thought you were an architech.”

Satya smiled rather thinly. “I am. However, I travel as an extension of Vishkar’s interests; you could call me a diplomatic agent of sorts. I plan constructs and create buildings, true, but I also travel to potential clients, to demonstrate the unique properties of hard light and the benefits that come with a contract with us, and then I broker deals between my company and our clients.” She smiled again. “My work takes me all over the world, which is how I know Vienna. I’ve been here a few times.”

Pharah inclined her head. “Interesting.”

“Do all architechs travel like this?” Hana asked curiously, and Satya hesitated, but shook her head.

“No. I am… something of a unique situation within Vishkar.” Her mouth thinned at the impending unpleasantness. “I am considered something of a prodigy at home, and they like to show me off.”

Ana’s mouth twitched into a grin as Tracer laughed and Hana leaned forwards, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Even Junkrat looked up.

“You’ve never told us that!” The young Korean girl exclaimed, and Satya shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t like to bring it up. It’s hard to seem like a normal person when introducing yourself as a prodigy.”

That earned her some laughs, and then Morrison called their attention back to planning.

It was decided that as their plus ones, Satya and Mercy would take Morrison and McCree, acting as bodyguards. These two would come along to the shops to pick up some rental tuxedoes for the occasion (McCree was sulking after a plea to wear his hat and spurs with his suit was unanimously rejected), and the rest of the team…

Sanjay had managed to acquire an additional security pass, and so the plan was, Reinhardt would act as a security driver with Junkrat, Roadhog, Genji, Ana and Tracer hiding in the back of the van, where should backup be needed, they would all swing into action and burst in to the palace. All except for the Junkers, for Satya had put her foot down, citing the age and rarity of the palace and its contents. After reiterating the delicacy of the building, it was agreed that the Junkers would be the distraction, and were permitted nowhere near the palace itself.

Junkrat was now digging through his duffel of bombs on the floor, chatting to Roadhog as he carefully sorted which explosives he ought to bring; that is, which ones wouldn’t damage the palace _too_ much as he sprinted through the gardens, aiming to attract as many guards as possible and lead them away to clear the space for the rest of them to get to the Talon agents and protect the target.

Genji would be their resident ninja – he would be sneaking around the grounds, avoiding security, and generally sniffing for clues.

Ana, with her sniper rifle, would leave the van once it was parked near security, and sneak up to the roof of the buildings running perpendicular to the palace, where she could perch on an orange bricked roof and offer support from afar. Pharah would be air support, primed and ready to fly in should the fight come outside.

Hana’s MEKA was trickier to place, and eventually she volunteered to stay behind, citing her face. She was well known, and if she tried to enter the building, she may be recognised. Not to mention the fact that an errant blast from her mech could level an entire wing of priceless antiques. Lúcio had been informed in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t permitted to come – he’d tried to object, but Satya had shut him down completely. He was a wanted criminal in the eyes of Vishkar, and if he was seen entering the premises on Vishkar’s invitation, well. It would end badly for everyone involved.

After a call to Winston to run their plans by him, Satya and Mercy headed into their room to gather up what they needed to go shopping.

“It’s very nice of you to put my dress on your account.” Mercy said warmly. “Remind me to thank you again once we get there.”

Satya could hear the humour in her tone and she responded in turn; a smile tilted her lips as she turned to face the doctor. “You needn’t do that; It’s my pleasure, Mercy.”

Mercy’s grin widened. “If you’re going to buy me dresses, I’m going to have to insist you call me Angela.”

Satya’s smile was more genuine this time; it’s an honour, really. Mercy was kind and warm, and she always enjoyed artless sincerity when being invited to use someone’s name. “Thank you. In return, you may call me Satya.” The words rolled off her tongue easily; Satya never necessarily stopped people from calling her by her name, but she has always found that her bearing often intimidates them into sticking to her moniker. Then again, she’d always gotten along well with Mercy, who has a motherly warmth to her. It was certainly no hardship to invite the doctor to call her Satya.

“Satya. A lovely name.” Angela smiled and headed for the door. “Shall we?”

Satya moved through the open door and made her way down to the lobby, where Morrison and McCree wait, locked in discussion by the main doors. When Angela had caught up, they moved to one of the vans, and Morrison got into the driver’s seat. Satya gave him directions, and as they moved off, she pictured the upcoming mission in her head – it was going to be difficult, and she hoped that they could succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its nearly plot time and I am Excited bc I get to stuff Satya into an elaborate ballgown (poor Junkrat. his heart will not be able to handle it)
> 
> and yes. this is the First Seeds of Physical Attraction (that Satya is Consciously Acknowledging) and it is confusing her a fair bit, poor girl
> 
> Come and chat to me about my fic or whatever on my tumblr! mintiture.tumblr.com


	17. Preparations and Realisations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roadhog knows, and Roadhog is Suffering™

Junkrat was entirely unsure of what to think. In fact, he was starting to wonder if he’d ever have any sort of clarity of mind ever again. He knew his behaviour was making Roadie suspicious, but he couldn’t quite help himself; his words died on his lips when his memories turned back to Symmetra pulling him close in that doorway.

All through the meeting he’d forgotten to talk, because he was too busy thinking about what had happened; how close she’d been, how she’d touched him, the smell of her hair.

How her hips had felt beneath his hands.

He blinked, his fingers slowing to a halt on the wires of a mine as he recollected turning and burrowing his nose beneath her hair; Junkrat shivered, the motion arching his spine, and Roadhog turned to stare.

Junkrat defensively met his gaze, then flicked his eyes away, back to the bomb in his hands, the bricks of the wall, the back of Ana’s head as she talked to Pharah.

“…What’s wrong with ya?”

Junkrat started and turned back to face Roadhog, looking around to make sure no one else was listening.

“Nuthin’.” He muttered, only to get a shove to the shoulder.

“Don’t lie.”

Junkrat ignored his bodyguard further, until he could feel Roadhog glaring.

“Somethin’ happened this arvo. What?”

Junkrat looked around carefully. “I-I dunno, mate.” He whispered truthfully. “I got no fuckin’ idea.”

Roadhog looked at him for a moment, then got to his feet and grabbed the back of Junkrat’s singlet, hoisting him up as well. Junkrat followed Roadhog into the room they shared with McCree, and then Hog evidently decided the room wasn’t private enough, because Junkrat found himself being seized by the wrist and dragged out the door. Roadhog stopped to sit in the empty lobby (the hotelier came out, but one look from Hog sent him scurrying away again). Junkrat absently wondered how much Reinhardt was paying him to keep his trap shut – lots, if Hog’s bike was any indication.

He’d found out after the initial to-do over the Talon attack had died down – while he and Symmetra had been out visiting her client, Roadhog had gone to Reinhardt and told – not asked – him that his bike was nearby and he was going to pick it up.

Junkrat had laughed to picture Roadie doing it, but he’d done it somehow – the bright yellow bike (the one true love of Roadhog’s life) was now parked in the hotelier’s private space, having been nicely bribed. Having not seen the bike in months, Junkrat was just itching to load his bombs into the sidecar and go for a nice little drive, maybe rob some joints blind as they did so. Unfortunately, Symmetra was occupying his thoughts just a little too much to let that happen.

“What happened?” Roadhog asked again, and Junkrat attempted to get his words straight.

“Dunno mate.” He said, the words sounding a bit awed. “Symmetra…”

“She did somethin’?”

“Yeah.” Junkrat scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, we w’getting’ coffee ta bring back, roight…” He paused. “An’ she spots these Talon bastards comin’ up the street.” A giggle worked its way up his throat. “Think’s fast, don’t she? Kinda… pulled me inta th’ doorway.”

Hog tilted his head to the side, an unspoken question in the air.

Junkrat looked about the room, trying to figure out how to explain it. “Like… like…” He was saved by a few magazines scattered over the coffee table. Seizing the one related to upcoming movies, Junkrat pointed at the cover, in which a man and a woman were closely intertwined. “Like that!”

Hog grabbed the magazine and stared at it. “Yer off yer rocker.”

“I ain’t!” Junkrat exclaimed. “She did it, not me.”

“Why?”

Junkrat racked his brains. “Aw, fuck, she did explain it. Hang on a tic…” It came back to him in a rush and he jumped in his seat. “‘Metra said, uh, public displays of affection make people uncomfy. Or somethin’.”

Roadhog looked down at the magazine and then back up again. Junkrat couldn’t read his expression, but he knew his bodyguard was disbelieving.

“So she was hidin’ in plain sight.”

Junkrat nodded vigorously. “Yeah.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah. Talon bastards walked roight past us. Coulda touched ‘em if I’d tried.”

Roadhog flicked the cover of the magazine, where the woman was practically plastered against her co-star’s chest. “This close?” His voice was utterly disbelieving.

Junkrat nodded, eyes wide. “Yeah.”

Hog put the magazine down and laced his fingers together, settling them on top of his enormous belly. Junkrat knew what that meant, and he looked away, whistling nervously.

“Y’like her.”

 _Christ almighty, that’s a statement, not a question! How th’fuck does he know?_ Junkrat giggled nervously. “Nah. I mean, she’s a suit-”

“Rat.”

Junkrat scratched at his head. “No.” He said, trying to convince himself. “She’s a suit.”

Hog just looked at him. “Thought y’said she ain’t a suit. Not properly.”

 _Well, fuck._ “No, not really.” Junkrat hedged. “But she’s bad enough?” His voice went up at the end like it was a question, and though he paired it with a laugh, he knew Roadhog wasn’t fooled.

“Y’got it bad, ya dopey ponce.” Roadhog sounded amused, and Junkrat glowered.

“Oi, the fuck would you know-”

“Y’stare at her.”

That shut him up. Junkrat blinked. “What?” He said somewhat hoarsely, then shook his head, trying desperately to convince both of them that he was right, because he _couldn’t_ like Symmetra, not really, not _her_. “Fuck off, I don’t-”

“Fuckin’ oath y’do. Y’think I don’t notice half the shit y’do?”

Junkrat pointed a metal finger accusingly at his bodyguard. “That ain’t got nuthin’ t’do with nuthin’, y’great oaf-”

“Shut up, Rat.”

Junkrat glowered, sticking his nose in the air like he was offended. He _was_ offended – offended that Hog was putting him on the spot like this. Hog’s words, however, were rather forcing him to confront his own feelings – _Christ almighty, what if he’s right? What if I do like her? A suit?_ Junkrat shook his head. _Nah, I can’t. She’s bossy an’ uptight, an’… an’… she’s kind, an’ she’s been teachin’ me t’read._

“So whadaya gonna do?” Roadhog continued.

Junkrat shrugged confusedly. “What? Nah, _mate_ , it ain’t like that.” He blew out a breath. “We’re mates. _Just_ mates. I think.”

Hog leaned in a fraction, ignoring him completely. “Gonna talk t’her?”

“Nah?” Junkrat cursed his own stupidity as the word came out like a question.

“Why not?”

“Why the fuck do y’think?” Junkrat hissed. “She’s little miss law an’ order, she won’t wanna associate with a scrapheap like me-”

“Roadhog interrupted. “So y’ _do_ like her.”

“Fuck. Off.” Junkrat glared. “I _don’t_.”

Hog seemed amused, which was only making Junkrat more agitated. “So then why d’ya stare at her?”

“‘Cause – ‘cause her glowy bullshit’s interestin’!” Junkrat invented wildly.

Roadhog eyed him calmly. “Yer a fuckin’ awful liar, mate.”

Junkrat expelled all his breath in one go and slumped back in his chair. “Fuck.” Opening one eye, he peeked at his bodyguard. “It ain’t that obvious, is it?”

Roadhog let out a deep chuckle, and that was the exact moment Junkrat knew he was fucked. Christ, he’d been muddling along for the past month thinking – or trying to convince himself – that it was purely sexual attraction – she _was_ gorgeous – but what if? Did he genuinely _like_ her? _Christ._ Junkrat pushed at his gold tooth with his tongue, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he realised that Hog was probably right – he did like talking to Symmetra more than was probably necessary. She was kind, in private, at least, and… he liked her more than he should.

“Gonna stare at her more tomorrow?”

Junkrat scowled. “ _No_.”

“Sure? She’ll be in a ball gown. Pretty as a picture.” There was no doubt about it; the miserable fat bastard was having fun riling him up.

“Shut the fuck up.” Junkrat rubbed his eyes. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere, so it ain’t worth discussin’.” He attempted to change the subject then. “Whadaya think of this ball bullshit?”

Roadhog made a noise that said he wasn’t fooled. Nevertheless, he changed the subject. “Dunno. Seems dodgy t’me.” Hog’s rumbling voice settled into suspicion. “Talon’s gonna execute a suit?”

Junkrat nodded. “Yeah, sounds like it.” He snorted. “Dunno why this lot’s all worried. Who cares ‘bout a dumb suit?”

“Guess it’s political shit.” Hog mused, and Junkrat scoffed.

“Who cares ‘bout that shit either?”

They both snickered at that, and then, the miserable interrogation over, they settled into regular conversation – at least until Hog got sick of it and started flicking through a magazine. Junkrat picked one up too, eagerly devouring the words – it was slow going, but he found he was able to pick up the gist of the article, which fucking _delighted_ him. He ended up neck deep in some story about an actress who’d come home to find her husband (also famous) fucking the housekeeper, which was kind of bewildering to him. How did the magazine find out? Things were so public out in the ‘civilised’ world. Back home, this sort of shit was kept tight under wraps, for fear of having your throat slit.

Time passed quickly as he read slowly, and all too soon, Junkrat found himself blinking as 76 (bearing two suits) held the door open for Symmetra and Mercy, who were chatting quietly and carrying long garment bags. McCree brought up the rear, loaded down with additional bags and shoe boxes.

Junkrat avoided looking at either Symmetra _or_ Roadhog.

“Hello!” Mercy said, stopping in front of them. “What are you two doing out here?”

“Readin’.” Junkrat said shortly, waggling the magazine. A look out of the corner of his eye and he could have sworn Symmetra looked faintly pleased at his activity. “Fuckin’ crowded in there.”

Mercy nodded. “It certainly is.”

76 spoke up then. “Get inside, you two. We’ve got work to do.”

“Th’fuck died and made _you_ king?” Junkrat inquired, accent thickened with irritation.

76 swelled slightly. “Who the hell-”

“Jack.” Mercy interjected, a warning look in her eye. “That’s not really the right way to handle things with these two.”

76 frowned. “Fine, just get them inside. We need to get busy.”

Junkrat muttered a rude word under his breath as 76 walked off down the hall, carting his suit, and then he turned back to Mercy, who looked both amused and exasperated. McCree looked between 76 and the rest of them a few times, and then followed the old strike leader.

“You know, he’s just used to being in charge of his men.” Mercy said softly, and Junkrat snorted, foot bouncing.

“We ain’t soldiers.” He snapped, narrowing his eyes. If there was one thing he hated, it was being ordered around. Junkrat didn’t really mind it when Winston did it, because the gorilla was paying him, or Reinhardt, because he was usually second in command, (and both of them made it sound like suggestions rather than a direct order) but 76? That prick just up and started barking orders, expecting everyone to jump the second he asked for it. _Fuck him._ Junkrat refused to do anything of the sort. Mercy sighed slightly. Beside her, Symmetra watched with an inscrutable look on her face.

“I know that.” Mercy continued gently. “Will you come in?”

“In a minute.” Junkrat said obstinately, flicking out the magazine as if going to read it.

Mercy sighed again and seemed to recognise the futility of it, because she murmured something to Symmetra too low for him to make out, thought it sounded a little too much like ‘he has an authority problem’ and then both women moved towards the stairs.

Roadhog snorted to himself and turned the page of his own magazine, and Junkrat glowered at the lingering memory of 76.

“What kinda jumped up prick is 76?” He spat, furious at the presumption of the man.

“Dunno.” Hog turned another page. “Just another military fucker.”

“Heh. Got that roight.” Junkrat frowned down at his magazine for a few minutes, then noticed a figure at the top of the steps. Looking up, his brows drew together when he recognised Symmetra descending the stairs.

He watched her furtively over his magazine and knew Hog was doing the same as she stopped in front of them, clasping her hands.

“Junkrat. May I speak to you?”

Junkrat took a moment to respond, honestly at a loss to what the hell she’d want to talk about.

“Uh, I guess. What about?”

Symmetra’s gaze flickered to Roadhog, who grunted amusedly and heaved himself to his feet, setting off down the hallway without another word. Junkrat scowled at his bodyguard for abandoning him like this, but he couldn’t help be curious as to what she wanted.

“Walk with me.” Symmetra turned towards the doors of the hotel, and Junkrat stared curiously after her for a moment before chucking the magazine in the general direction of the coffee table and standing up to follow her.

Symmetra didn’t stop until she stood beneath the old oak tree, fingertips hovering over the bark for a moment, but she didn’t actually touch it. She turned to face him then, pushing her hair back behind her ear. He watched her almost nervously – what the hell did she want to talk about? It certainly didn’t help that his mind was still full of Hog flatly informing him how obvious he was being. _Shit_.

“Junkrat, I want to apologise for this afternoon.”

Junkrat frowned, dragging his good hand through his hair. “What? Th’fuck for?”

Symmetra looked down. “Well, for encroaching on your personal space, for one.”

It took him a moment, but when he got it Junkrat tipped back his head and laughed. “God, ‘Metra, Ain't no need ta apologise. Saved our hide’s, yer little trick did.”

She met his gaze steadily, a touch of incredulity in her gaze as her mouth quirked up. “Must you always speak in double negatives?”

Junkrat stared for a moment. “The fuck is a double neg-?”

“Never mind.” Symmetra tilted her head as she appraised him. “You know, I was decently impressed with your reaction. You seemed to understand what I was doing fairly quickly.”

Was there a hint of colour in her cheeks? Junkrat rubbed at his chin to distract himself, and cracked his jaw. _Pop-pop_ , the satisfying clicks echoed and he let out a pleased sigh before he answered.

“Ain’t gonna lie, I was fuckin’ lost there for a minute.” Junkrat flashed her a grin, his tongue finding a golden tooth. “But I got it eventually.”

Symmetra’s lips curved up slightly. “I am pleased; I spent a good while panicking that you’d pull away and ruin everything.”

Her sentence hung in the air before them, the words _pull away_ conjuring the situation in his mind all over again.

“Heh, yeah. Well, I mighta, if y’handn’t explained.” Junkrat got the words out in a rush to disguise the awkwardness of the moment.

Her smile turned crooked then. “I am glad of that. That I explained, that is.” Symmetra looked away then, smoothing a skirt that absolutely didn’t require any smoothing. “And that you listened.”

He shrugged exaggeratedly. “Gotta listen t’the boss, ey?”

Her smile grew a little wider. “It would be nice if that extended to non-life threatening situations, too.”

There was definitely a hint of teasing in her tone, and Junkrat snickered. “Like what?” He asked, playing dumb.

“Keeping your workstation in order, perhaps.” She was teasing now, he just knew it.

“Oi, me bench is in perfect order. Know ‘xactly where everythin’ is.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Ah, y’just don’t know me organisational methods.” Junkrat grinned at her, waggling his brows, and Symmetra’s smile widened slightly. “So why’re ya apologising?” He asked curiously, pulling a leaf from the tree and starting to shred it as he changed the subject. “Saved both our arses, y’know. ‘Specially seein’ as I didn’t have any bombs. That don’t warrant an apology.”

Symmetra opened her mouth and then closed it. “I suppose… I wanted to make sure we were on the same page.” She said at last, eyes on her prosthetic.

Junkrat nodded. “Roight. Well, I reckon we’re all caught up, yeah?”

She nodded as well. “Yes, I think so.” Symmetra took a deep breath, the fingers of her good hand sliding over cool white metal. “I am pleased you are being so understanding. Both before and now.”

While he didn’t have a clue why she was so insistent on bringing everything back up again, Junkrat nodded. “Well, that’s what mates do.” He said, teaming it with a grin and a snicker, as though it were a joke.

Symmetra stilled, however, her head tilting to the side as she watched him, her golden eyes thoughtful. The longer she looked at him, the more awkward he felt, and Junkrat felt himself hunch over more as his metal hand lifted to scratch at his head. Had he made some sort of mistake, said the wrong thing?

“Uh… I can take that back, if y’want.” He offered, and the corner of her lips quirked up.

“You say that a lot. Do you mean it?”

“Uhhh, takin’ it back?” Junkrat stared at her, nonplussed.

Symmetra laughed slightly then, more expulsion of breath than audible sound, but it still counted. “No. I meant, do you mean it when you say we are friends?”

 _Oh_.

“Uh, well, I don’t got anythin’ against it.” Junkrat curled his tongue around a tooth. “Guess it’s up to you.”

Symmetra was quiet for a few moments, watching him with that inscrutable expression on her face. “Even with a _suit?”_

Junkrat giggled, the sound lilting and loud. “Y’gotta learn to listen better, ‘Metra.” An offended expression swept across her face and he snickered before he continued. “What have I told ya? Y’ain’t a suit. Not a proper one.”

Symmetra did nothing but arch a brow, and Junkrat laughed again.

“Makes ya suitable friendship material, that means.” He laughed again. “Get it? Material? _Suit?”_

Her lips twitched up. “That was terrible.”

“It really was.” Junkrat agreed. “So, uh… whadaya say?”

“Say?”

“‘Bout bein’ mates.” He clarified. “It _is_ up t’you.”

Symmetra watched him for a long moment, and abruptly, her face was very easy to read. First, she looked a little sceptical, and then – _worried_. No, _concerned_ , in an incredulous sort of way. He was in the middle of wondering what for when she sighed, her expression turning resigned. “You know… you have proven yourself to be more dependable than I would have expected.” She mused, and her tone sounded like she was surprised at herself. “So I suppose… yes. We might be friends.” She paused, as if regretting what she’d said. “ _Might_ be.”

Junkrat giggled and bounced gently on the spot, his shockies creaking with the movement. He made a mental note to oil his knee before they left on their mission to the goddamn Belvedere.

“Well then. Put ‘er ‘ere.” He said, exaggerating his accent as he stuck out his prosthetic hand.

Symmetra eyed his hand for a long moment, and then to his surprise, she gingerly slid her good hand into his and shook gently. Junkrat had honestly expected her to refuse; he put it up to having been forced to shower before they came to Austria, and then being cooped up in the hotel meant he hadn’t had much of a chance to get dirty.

Why the hell did she suddenly want to be friends? Almost friends. Whatever. It was bewildering, and he was fucking befuddled. Still, Junkrat decided he wasn’t going to risk anything by asking. He’d bide his time, and if she really meant it, he could find out later.

 “We ought to go back inside.” Symmetra said softly as she pulled her hand from his, subtly checking it for grime. “We don’t want to miss what Morrison says.”

That brought some of his sour mood back. “Feh. Who gives a fuck ‘bout _mistah_ bossy boots?” He put emphasis on _mister_ , making it drawn out and almost English, in a nancy boy sort of way.

Symmetra’s lips twitched. “I’m sure the others do.”

“Eh, I guess.” Junkrat paired his words with an elaborate shrug and a grin, and to his surprise, Symmetra actually raised a hand to press to her lips, as if she were trying to conceal her smile. The thought cheered him immensely, and he bounced on his toes.

“Welp, guess it’s time t’go, before 76 cracks another darky.” Junkrat offered, grinning at her, and Symmetra nodded, a faint smile still tilting her lips.

“I think so.”

Symmetra went ahead of him, and when they reached the hotel room, she went to sit by Hana and Mercy, and Junkrat went and flopped down beside Roadhog, who looked at him and then cleared his throat when he didn’t get an explanation fast enough.

“All good, mate.” Junkrat whispered, foot jiggling. “She explained everythin’.”

Roadhog made a low grumbling noise of assent, and then made him elaborate.

“Well, dunno exactly what’s goin’ on, but I feel better.” Junkrat scratched at his hair. “She said we’re mates.”

Roadhog paused. “Did she?”

“Yep.” Junkrat eyed Symmetra from across the room, where she was talking to 76. “I’ll tell ya later, but we shook hands an’ _everythin’_.”

“Hmm.” Roadhog didn’t say anything further, and Junkrat grinned as he met Symmetra’s gaze as she glanced in their direction.

“Oi Hog.” He asked, voice slightly louder, and he knew for a fact Symmetra could hear him as he spoke, for her head turned towards him. “What’s a double negative?”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the afternoon, that night, and all of the next morning was taken up by planning. Junkrat didn’t do a whole lot of listening once they were all settled around the table. He and Symmetra had been required to go over what had happened the day before, and both of them avoided eye contact – nor had they mentioned her little distraction tactic. Once he wasn’t being asked direct questions, however, Junkrat tuned out. The language 76 used when plotting out their course of action was very military and one hundred percent foreign to him, so he didn’t even bother trying to listen. Besides, he could just ask Hog later.

Even more besides, it wasn’t like what he and Roadhog would be doing required _that_ much finesse. They’d be on distraction duty. It was their job to _be_ noticed. Therefore, Junkrat didn’t bother to listen, choosing instead to lean back in his chair, peg leg bobbing distractedly as he fiddled with a grenade.

His supplies were essentially ready to go, but he couldn’t resist tweaking some of his favourite grenades, and that provided the perfect distraction while 76 yammered on about some stupid thing or other.

That’s what Junkrat ended up doing for the next hour… and the next… and the next, because 76 didn’t know how to shut up. In fact, by the time there was half an hour before they left, he was still going over the plan.

Junkrat had had it up to his eyeballs with the constant lecturing, and was no longer even pretending to listen. He’d stopped sitting at the table too, preferring to lounge on the floor surrounded by the far more interesting explosives. It had come at a high price too – 76 had been furious at his blatant Non Listening, and had had a right go at him that morning. Junkrat had blown off the soldier’s blustery words and hadn’t given the slightest shit, and so 76 had given up in disgust and was now ignoring him right back, something Junkrat was only too happy to have happen.

Thankfully, it was nearly time to leave for the palace, and Junkrat couldn’t be happier to get out of the crummy hotel.

His RIPtire was loaded in the van, along with Roadhog’s chainhook, and Roadie had already driven his bike out and stashed it not too far away from the palace this morning. Seeing as they were running distraction duty, they’d all decided it would be easier if Junkrat and Roadhog got away themselves, rather than having to co-ordinate with everyone else back to the vans. Junkrat whistled a tune as he stuffed his pockets and satchel full of explosives, and he was in the process of attaching the last few grenades to his harness when the door to the girl’s room burst open and Hana came darting out, followed by Pharah, Ana and Tracer.

He had to stifle a laugh at the difference between them – Ana and Pharah were dressed in tactical clothing, ready for action, while Tracer and Reinhardt were wearing black suits so they could blend in as security guards. Or try to. Hana, however, was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, because she was staying behind with Lúcio, who was similarly dressed.

McCree and 76 looked resplendent in their tuxedoes, McCree still wearing his hat (though Ana had promised to wrestle it off his head if he was still wearing it when they walked out the door), and everyone else was dressed in their usual fighting attire.

Junkrat looked up as Hana bounced excitedly, ushering Mercy and Symmetra through the door.

Mercy came through first, dressed a tight red gown covered in elaborate lace ruffles, with more of the stuff hanging from her shoulders, and she had her blonde hair curled and loose around her shoulders. It was a big difference from the medical coat or Valkyrie armour she usually wore; she looked very pretty, he had to admit, and she stepped to the side as McCree, Genji and Reinhardt made a fuss over how lovely she looked.

Then Symmetra came out, and Junkrat nearly swallowed his tongue.

She looked gorgeous. There was no other word to describe her, and even then he felt it wasn’t enough. She wore something that was definitely Indian in style – it wasn’t like any dress he’d ever seen before. It was a brilliant robin’s egg blue that matched her polished nails, encrusted with golden embroidery along the hem and fairly covering the skirt. Junkrat lifted his gaze from the elegant flare of her skirt and gulped when he realised she wasn’t wearing a dress – it was in two pieces, and when she moved, he caught a flash of the smooth skin of her midriff.

Junkrat blinked, feeling dazed. This wasn’t fair. What had this woman _done_ to him?

He kept staring though, his gaze lifting from the golden bracelets loaded on her wrists to the sweep of fabric that started at her left shoulder and then looped down to her opposite hip, pinned in place with an elaborate brooch. The sash thingo went over her prosthetic arm somehow, and concealed most of her exposed midriff but for the most enticing flashes of dark skin, and Junkrat could barely remember to take his eyes away. As for her face… he swallowed at the sight of dark lashes sweeping against her cheek as she looked towards the ground, adjusting the fall of her skirt.

Her hair was pulled back into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck, and the bun had golden ornaments attached, while a thin gold chain ran down the parting of her hair and held one of those decorative head thingies Indian women wore on her forehead.

Beside him, Roadhog chuckled and elbowed him, and Junkrat immediately looked down, certain he was going red.

Christ, it was bad enough that Roadie knew he liked Symmetra, of all the goddamn people in the word, but it was worse having his mate sitting right next to him, chuckling knowingly as Symmetra came out looking like a goddamned supermodel.

“Don’t start droolin’.” Hog muttered in an amused tone, low enough that no one else heard, and Junkrat bristled.

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed under his breath, driving his elbow into Hog’s gut as hard as he could, to which Roadhog only snickered again.

Junkrat continued stuffing traps in his bags, ready to go, but he couldn’t help overhearing McCree talking to Symmetra.

“Now, y’look gorgeous, darl.” He drawled, and Junkrat scowled.

“Thank you.” Symmetra’s tone was quiet but pleased.

“That’s an _unusual_ dress.” McCree continued, clearly looking for a diplomatic way to phrase it.

Symmetra laughed softly at that, and Junkrat glanced up in time to see her smoothing her hair, and he quickly looked away again. _Christ, what’s she gotta be so pretty for?_

“It is called a _lehenga choli_.” Symmetra’s tone was definitely amused.

“And y’found it in _Vienna?”_

Her voice cooled dramatically. “It is like I said; Vishkar is very well connected. Besides, I always wear traditional dress to formal events.”

“Well, you do look lovely.” That was Ana, and Junkrat grinned at the contrast – battle ready Ana next to Symmetra, who looked like a damn princess.

“Thank you, Ana.” Symmetra’s tone had warmed slightly, and 76 clapped his hands loudly.

“Right, if everyone’s ready…” He phrased it like a question, and once he was sure everyone was, he nodded. “Let’s move.”

Junkrat muttered under his breath as he scooped up the remainder of his traps and bombs, and headed out of the hotel room alongside Roadhog.

While waiting for his turn to load his things into the van (it had been decided that they would pack their possessions up just in case the mission went to shit and they needed to get out of Austria immediately. Hana and Lúcio would be waiting all night for the signal that they could relax and stay at the hotel, or get the hell out), motion beside him made him turn, and Junkrat very abruptly realised Symmetra was standing beside him as she peered down the street, waiting for her ride.

She’d gotten Vishkar to organise a limo for her and Mercy, he remembered, which explained why she wasn’t getting into the van, and Junkrat found himself unable to keep his mouth shut.

“‘Metra.” He greeted her, teaming it with a lopsided grin. “Y’look nice.” That was understating things a little.

The corner of her lips turned up, however, which indicated that she hadn’t taken offence. Symmetra swivelled on her gold high heels to face him properly, her prosthetic hand propped up on her bare waist as a cascade of delicate material led his gaze further down.

Junkrat had to take a moment. _Fuck, I’m so fucked._

“Thank you.” She was clearly about to say something else, but they were both interrupted by a German knight with terrible timing.

“Junkrat!” Reinhardt’s booming voice made his head snap around to look.

“Yeah?”

Reinhardt motioned at the van. “Get in!”

Junkrat tapped the grenades hitched to his harness to double check that they were there. “Roight.”

He got into the back of the van and slumped into the seat beside Roadhog, fingers drumming impatiently on his thighs as his foot jiggled – Junkrat couldn’t stand the waiting. An exclamation from McCree caught his attention and Junkrat turned his head along with everyone else to watch curiously as the driver of the sleek white limo that had just pulled up got out and bowed to Symmetra, who returned the gesture, before she, McCree, Mercy and 76 got in to their fancy ride.

Lúcio and Hana waved them goodbye, and Junkrat sat sorting through his bombs as he joked with Roadhog – and then Reinhardt started the van and pulled away from the curb, and they were off to the ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small disclaimer! I know pretty much nothing about traditional Indian clothing besides what google has told me, so if I heck up and use the words wrong, I'd appreciate a quick note to tell me so I can fix it! 
> 
> and, I know I've been saying its the lead up to plot for like the last six chapters, but the next chapter is where things really start happening, I promise!


	18. A Formal Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya and the others arrive at Belvedere Palace - and so does the Widowmaker.

Things were going better than she had expected. Satya’s mouth was starting to tire from smiling so much as she mingled in the crowd, but so far, nothing noteworthy had happened. The limousine Vishkar had sent for had had no problems passing through the gates of the palace, her driver (a man by the name of Sahil, who was currently stationed in Vienna) having offered up his Vishkar credentials and her invitations, which had been enough to get both her and their ‘extra security’ through.

Speaking of extra security, she wasn’t quite sure where they had all ended up. From the very quiet conversations she could parse through her comm, Reinhardt had his van parked around the back, where the rest of security had their base of operations, and he and Tracer were using their status as Europeans to blend in somewhat as additional hired help. Genji was off sneaking around the grounds, occasionally reporting on anything he found suspicious, and Ana had successfully snuck through the gardens to the rooftops closest to the palace, and was now perched high up somewhere, ready to snipe people should she need to.

When they arrived, Mercy had insisted they take numerous photos of one another in front of the palace, citing the fact that she rarely got to dress up, and she wanted a reminder of the dress. Never mind the fact that Hana had taken roughly a million pictures in the hotel room while they were getting ready. Satya could see Mercy just ahead of her now, speaking to an Italian diplomat who had recognised her about the advancements she had made in medicine, Morrison hovering just over her shoulder and looking menacing with his visor on, even if he didn’t quite mean to.

The general consensus was that he ought to leave the visor on – Morrison may be recognised otherwise, for there were people in the room he’d known when he had been leading Overwatch – hopefully, people would assume the visor meant that he was a particularly diligent bodyguard.

Her own bodyguard was standing a few steps away, thoroughly enjoying some canapés, and Satya moved towards him so she could tell him she wanted to move towards the other side of the room, where she could see one of Vishkar’s clients.

“Come this way.” She murmured, and McCree nodded, falling into step behind her.

Satya let her hand slip down, subtly adjusting the fall of her skirt, and made sure her odhni fell from her shoulder correctly. She’d worn it to cover her prosthetic arm, as she usually did, for she felt that not only did the modern construct take away from the beauty of her traditional dress, but it attracted attention when in formal settings. Her odhni covered her metal arm and concealed it mostly from view, which in her eyes, made things easier.

As she did so, she scanned the room thoughtfully, wondering who would be Talon’s target. She could see many influential people and omnics here – she’d been right, for the American president was here, as were the French, Austrian and Russian presidents, among others, including European royalty. Why, she could even see Tekhartha Dhanyatta, the omic who was rumoured to be taking Mondatta’s place as leader of the Shambali, surrounded by several more omnics draped in monk’s robes. His section of the floor was absolutely crawling with security.

“So where’re we goin’?” Asked McCree at her back, and Satya turned her head slightly to look at him.

“There is a client of Vishkar’s over there, I wish to speak with her-”

“ _Another_ one? We’ve been seein’ clients all night!”

Satya mustered up a grin. “I know – but I must keep up pretences, mustn’t I?”

McCree shrugged in agreement and snagged another hors d’oeuvre from a passing waiter. Satya let her gaze linger on him for a moment longer.

“You do look most peculiar without your hat.” She noted, and McCree brandished his hors d’oeuvre at her.

“I told you!” He exclaimed. “Shoulda let me wear th’ hat. Woulda been better for everyone. But noooo, all y’all ganged up on me.”

Satya hid a smile beneath her hand. “I apologise.” She said teasingly, and McCree grinned at her.

“Y’all’ll know better next time, hey?” He drawled, and she nodded.

“I suppose we will.”

Satya continued to make her way through the crowd of expensive people dressed in expensive clothes, and wondered just how happy Junkrat would be to be in here, surrounded by so many fingers and throats dripping with gold and diamonds. At the thought, her brow wrinkled, and she was glad he was still in the van.

Hopefully.

The comm in her ear crackled slightly, before Morrison’s quiet voice hissed in her ear. “See anything?”

McCree answered for her. “Not yet.” He whispered back, equally as quiet.

“That’s good though, is it not?” Satya murmured towards him. “Maybe they decided to call off the hit.”

McCree shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe. Can’t deny it’d be nice.”

“Mmm.”

Satya drew close enough to the client to engage her in conversation, and she kissed the cheek of the client in the French style – fitting, because the woman was French. Calandre Pelletier was the CEO of a firm that developed new technology, and her firm and Vishkar had worked together in the past.

“Miss Vaswani, what a delight.” Pelletier said, smiling over her champagne.

Satya smiled back. “Mrs Pelletier, it is a pleasure seeing you again tonight. I must say-” She drew the woman into practiced and easy conversation, leaving McCree to stuff himself with canapés acquired from the many waiters roaming around. It was almost strange how many there were – black suited men and women lining the walls, many holding some strange boxes, but Satya paid them no mind – it was presumably food or perhaps more champagne.

Halfway through the conversation, however, Satya felt herself freeze. It was very good Pelletier was talking, because she was sure she’d have come to a halt, drawing attention to why she’d suddenly stopped speaking.

As it was, however, she was sure she might be noticed anyway, because standing in the shadow of the servant’s stairway was a woman clad in a skin-tight jumpsuit. Her long dark hair was pulled up behind her, and her eyes roamed sharply over the crowd, clearly searching for someone.

It was hard to tell in the shadows, but Satya thought her skin held a purplish tone.

Panic flashed through her, and she grabbed McCree’s arm, swinging him around.

“I’m so sorry.” She called over her shoulder to a confused looking Mrs Pelletier. “I’m afraid I must go, I will be in touch-”

The woman looked a little insulted, but nodded.

“Ay, what’s goin’ on-” McCree asked, and Satya cut him off, still gripping his arm to stop him from turning around.

“Can you look behind you without being seen?” She asked, and McCree tensed.

“Who’s there?”

“Widowmaker.” She breathed, and he swore carefully, angling himself so he could look around without being seen.

“Christ, it is her.” He breathed grimly. Satya spied a mirror set into the elaborate gold scrolling of the magnificent rococo ballroom, and angled both her and McCree so they could see Widowmaker without turning around.

She heard McCree’s voice both next to her and in her ear as he hissed their discovery into the comm, creating a rather jarring double layer of speech.

Morrison was at their side in what felt like half a second, and Satya grabbed his elbow and spun him around so he could look through the mirror without having his visor spotted. Mercy too was made to turn around, for Widowmaker would easily recognise her. Seeing as Mercy was unarmed, Morrison and McCree shooed her towards the other side of the ballroom, whereas Satya was permitted to stay, for she had her shields. McCree and Morrison were both armed to the teeth inside their suits, and Satya waited anxiously as Morrison relayed Widowmaker’s presence over the comms. Satya watched the tall Frenchwoman through the mirror, noting the smirk on her lips as she scanned the crowd.

Morrison leaned in then, hand reaching into his suit to grab his weapon. “We’ve got to get to her before she shoots-”

A gunshot rang out then, and all around screams erupted as explosives went off, instantly filling the room with thick billowing smoke. Satya’s eyes began to water almost instantly as she coughed and choked, and barely noticed as McCree and Morrison flung themselves forwards, shoving through the crowd. Satya began to stumble forwards, pushed by the panicking crowd, and gasped as delicate antique plaster and gold crumbled to the floor. Widowmaker had fired a shot into the ceiling. The palace had been damaged. Kapoor was going to have a coronary.

Satya gritted her teeth and turned, pushing against the sea of bodies to try and get back to where Widowmaker was. She could hear some vestiges of a clear French accent over the crowd, but she couldn’t make out the words. Why on earth weren’t these people fleeing? Were they all morons? Horror flew through her when through the clouds of acrid smoke, she saw the closed door – blocked off by Talon agents bearing weapons. _Oh no_ – they were clad in the outfits of the waiters. The ball had well and truly been infiltrated, and they were trapped.

She managed to get close enough to McCree to hear him talk, pushing her way through the crush of bodies.

“The hell’s she _doin’?”_ McCree spat, peacekeeper in hand. “This ain’t her style.”

“She’s putting on a show.” Morrison spat grimly, and then both men were fighting their way through the hysterical crowd as the patrons of the ball pressed backwards, trying to get away from the terrorists.

Satya hesitated a moment, then lifted a hand to her comm, changing the channel swiftly. “Junkrat and Roadhog.” She hissed. “We need those distractions now. Get the police here as soon as possible.”

Her only answer was an Australian cackle of delight, and then a wracking explosion shuddered through the grounds, making the windows rattle. Satya fought her way through the now panicking crowd just as Widowmaker fired another shot into the ceiling.

“Silence!” She howled, then fixed the patrons with a fierce stare as they ignored her and continued to panic. The only reason Satya could make out her words was because she was close enough. “What the hell was that?” Another explosion sounded, then another, and she looked a fraction uneasy, before she pulled herself together. “Where is Tekhartha Dhanyatta?”

Satya’s belly slipped down to her toes. “Oh no.” She murmured, and continued trying to get to McCree and Morrison. Someone pushed her in their rush to get out and she nearly toppled. Satya cried out as her lehenga tore, the delicate embroidery ruined.

The security around Dhanyatta gave her comfort, however. They’d surrounded the monk (as had the other security around the presidents) and were hustling him towards the entrance, and would soon be out - _Gods._ Satya gritted her teeth as she realized that _all_ the entrances were blocked by menacing looking Talon agents wielding impressive looking weapons, and that they were all boxed in.

“Dhanyatta.” Widowmaker said again. “Bring him to me.”

“How ‘bout no?” McCree said lazily, finally managing to get out from the crowd, peacekeeper pointed at her chest.

Widowmaker laughed, the sound cold and ugly. “Jesse.” She said, wicked delight in her tone. “How lovely to see you.”

Satya could see the ghost of pain on McCree’s features. “Can’t say I feel the same, darlin’.”

“What a shame.” Widowmaker said, then scanned the crowd. “Are any of our friends here?”

Morrison stepped forwards at that, and Satya let herself hide at the edge of the panicked crowd, certain that there were going to be bullets flying soon. She held her hands ready, poised and primed to create a shield.

Widowmaker smiled delightedly. “Ah, 76.” She crooned. “How nice.”

Satya nearly missed the way the assassin’s eyes flickered to the side, and how her mouth tensed before she spoke.

“ _Maintenant_.”

Satya barely got the shield up in time, McCree and Morrison falling back reflexively until they realized the bullets were pinging off the swathe of bright blue extending from her fingers. Satya gritted her teeth with the exertion of holding such a large shield and keeping it solid, and she knew it was only the fact that her shield was the only thing stopping those deadly bullets from ripping into innocent flesh that let her do it.

Beside her, she could here McCree and Morrison both barking orders into the comms, and then from somewhere far behind her she heard Reinhardt’s booming voice as he engaged some of the Talon agents blocking the doors.

Reinhardt must have cleared a doorway, because all of a sudden there was something of a stampede as people flooded out behind her, the security guards around the various presidents acting as veritable battering rams to get their charges out of the palace.

Widowmaker smiled a very peculiar smile then, like she was _pleased_ , and the she barked something at the agents surrounding her, turned tail, and ran.

Satya dropped her shield and then McCree and Morrison were after Widowmaker like a shot, and she hesitated for a moment, before turning to follow the crowd. There were important people here – someone may need a shield. Explosions were still going off from outside the palace, and she wished she had her visor so she could block out some of the sound, but she didn’t – she gritted her teeth and did her best to ignore it.

She was in heels and a skirt, which meant that it was hard to run, and Satya slowed down to assess things. She made the decision to get out of the palace completely then, and scrambled down the stairs, too preoccupied to notice the sheer beauty of her surroundings. Later, she’d be extremely annoyed Widowmaker had cost her the chance to really admire the architecture and antique furnishings of the palace.

Reaching the gravel drive, Satya paused as she recognized several armored cars pulling away, no doubt carrying important passengers. A moment later and she flinched as gunfire rang out, peppering the vehicles as they fled, and she made the executive decision to get away from the area as a moment later Pharah came blasting across the skies in her Raptora suit, pursing a group of Talon agents. Satya’s first priority was officially getting to the security vans – she didn’t have her photon blaster or her visor, which meant that while she had her shields and whatever she could create with her hard light, she was operating with purely defensive measures. It would be far safer to get to the others.

The decision made, Satya began to run, then immediately stopped and kicked off her shoes as she spied Genji sprinting past, sword out. While it pained her to abandon the expensive heels, she couldn’t run in them. She grimaced with each step on the gravel, trying to ignore the pain as well as the knowledge of the grime she was surely getting all over her feet – she needed the mobility. Rounding the corner of the palace, she came onto soft grass, hoisted up her skirts and began to sprint, only to pull up short at the sight of a knot of Talon agents, who opened fire on her.

Satya threw up a shield immediately and gritted her teeth as she held it whilst bullets impacted harshly, and then she turned tail to sprint back around the palace again. She made for the grounds – she could hide in the bushes maybe, or set up ambushes or – as a massive explosion sounded, she realized she could meet up with Junkrat and Roadhog. It would certainly be safer. Hopefully.

Running full tilt into the ornate mazes of hedges and garden beds, Satya crossed other patrons who were similarly fleeing for their lives, some being led by their security details, and she nearly broke her ankle once or twice by stumbling over abandoned high heels in the dark. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one having difficulty running in her shoes.

Panic began to recede in her mind enough to realise she hadn’t checked in on the comms yet, and she pressed a hand to her ear as she ran, tuning in to the voices she could hear over her own panting.

“Everyone get to ze vans!” She could hear Reinhardt roaring, and as others tuned in to give their locations or give reasons as to why they couldn’t, Satya managed to interject.

“I can’t.” She got out as she kept running. “My path is blocked off. I need to find another way around.”

“Me too.” Chimed in Mercy, her voice a rough pant. “I’m in the hedges-”

“Where?” Satya interrupted. “I am too-”  
  
“Symmetra!”

Satya turned at the shout, and found Mercy barreling towards her, one hand holding her skirts up high, revealing bare feet. Mercy had abandoned her shoes too, it seemed. They crashed right into one another, gripping each other’s arms as they checked the other for injuries.

“Are – are you hurt?” Mercy gasped out.

“No, are you?” Satya managed, similarly concerned.

“No.” Mercy got out, shaking her head. “Where’s Jack? Jesse?”

“They went after Widowmaker.”

Mercy scowled. “After all they said about sticking close because we don’t have weapons, and then _they_ leave _us?_ You wait until I get ahold of Jack-”

Satya nodded as gunfire sounded, alarmingly close. “There will be time enough for that later, but now we need to run!”

Still gripping each other’s hands, they began to run again, seeking to loop back around the palace, when a deafening rumble overtook the sound of gunfire and explosions.

Satya stumbled to a stop, still holding onto Mercy as she glanced all around, trying to parse where the sound was coming from – or what it was.

“What _is_ that?” Gasped Mercy, and Satya shook her head, pressing them both back into the hedges. She splayed her hands, the wireframe of a shield ready to be deployed should they need it.

“I don’t know – we have to run, or hide-”

The rumble was almost upon them, and Satya clutched at Mercy as the other woman did the same to her, and then from the hedges up ahead an enormous yellow motorcycle burst forth.

A bewildered laugh escaped her lips as she took in Roadhog seated astride the enormous custom chopper, seeming almost casual as he drove – a direct contrast to his passenger, who was more out of the sidecar than in it, a mad cackle on his lips and a grenade in his hand. Junkrat looked absolutely _mental_ , his ratty shorts more singed than ever, bare chest and shoulders smeared with soot, and she could have sworn his hair was smoking.

Junkrat’s grin only got wider as he pointed at them, and Roadhog braked abruptly, the bike skidding to a stop before them, and sending up bits of mud and grass to cover both her and Mercy. Satya panted slightly, quite unable to believe her eyes.

Junkrat leaned down, a shit eating grin on his face. “G’day ladies.” He said, accent thick and voice smug as he offered his good hand. “Can we offer ya a lift?”

Satya shook her head slightly. “You are _insane_.” She breathed, and Junkrat’s grin got bigger as Mercy spoke.

“We need to get to the vans-” She said, looking back the way Satya had come, and Satya shook her head.

“We can’t. Talon’s blocked it off. That’s why I was forced into the hedges.” She turned to Junkrat, seeing that there was no other choice. “If I die on this contraption I will _not_ be very happy with you.”

He cackled delightedly. “Just have t’take the risk, huh?” He stretched out his hand further, and after a look at Mercy, who nodded grimly, Satya moved forwards and slid her hand into his.

“Roight, here we go-”

Junkrat leaned down and wrapped his metal arm around her waist, and Satya shuddered at the cool metal on her bare skin, and then he lifted her as though she were paper, hoisting her over the side to stand crammed up against him. Satya let go of his hand like she’d been burned and looked down, certain her cheeks were flushed as Junkrat leaned down to grab Mercy and lift her in as well. The first thing that became apparent was how small the sidecar was.

“We don’t fit.” Mercy said, and Junkrat nodded.

“Unfortunate.”

The sirens in the distance were getting louder, and Roadhog grunted something, to which Junkrat nodded, scowling at the lights on the horizon.

“We gotta get outta here.” He said, and Roadhog revved the engine. “Hold on.” He said grimly, and Satya and Mercy both stared at him, arms intertwined with each other.

“To _what?”_ They said in unison.

Junkrat sniggered, his metal hand clamping firmly to the edge of the sidecar, hunching him over even more than usual. “T’ _me.”_ He said with a giggle, voice rather pleased, and then Satya found herself being tugged into his form along with Mercy as his good hand slid around her waist, still holding his frag launcher, which was worrisome in the extreme. Satya exchanged a look with Mercy and they both grabbed hold of Junkrat’s harness, careful to grip somewhere where there were no grenades, and then Roadhog hit the accelerator.

Mercy let out a squeal as the corner they took make her lean hard to the right, and Satya panicked as Mercy hit her and she tipped towards the side and her life flashed before her eyes, but Junkrat’s arm tightened around her waist and pulled her back in. Satya closed her eyes and pressed herself close to his chest, preferring not to look at the ground flying past them as Roadhog drove at dangerous speeds through the gardens.

“By Vishnu.” Satya whispered in Telugu. “If I live through this-”

Junkrat was laughing as they drove, which made the ride truly unnerving, for Roadhog had a tendency to drift around corners. A massive bump, an explosion and a maniacal Australian laugh made Satya jerk upright to open her eyes, and she realised they’d just gotten out of the palace grounds – Junkrat appeared to have launched a mine into the gates, and Roadhog had driven straight through the resulting tangle of metal and smoke.

Beside her, she could hear Mercy muttering things in German, and Satya mumbled a few more prayers that Roadhog wouldn’t get them all killed, and then her stomach sank down to her toes as she peered beneath Junkrat’s arm at the horde of Austrian police cars that had split off from the palace to pursue them, sirens ablaze.

Beside her, Satya vaguely realised Mercy was talking into her comm, but didn’t really register it until she spoke up.

“Jack says go straight to the airport!” She cried, accent marred by fear as she tugged on Junkrat’s harness. “We need to get out of Austria. Can we lose the police?”

Junkrat sniggered loudly as Roadhog grunted in affirmation. “Merc, yer lookin’ at the _grand champions_ of losin’ the coppers!”

“Oh, Gods.” Satya tried to inch closer to Mercy, where their arms were wrapped around each other’s backs. “We’re going to die.”

“I’d say so.” Mercy agreed, watching the police behind them with wide eyes.

Junkrat cackled again, and Satya could feel his abdomen move against hers as he laughed. Truly, she’d have felt so uncomfortable with the contact if thoughts of death weren’t flashing through her mind. If pitching over the edge of the sidecar as Roadhog took a corner at a hundred and twenty kilometres an hour wasn’t as utterly horrifying as it was, Satya would have been disgusted with how close she was to him – her nose was practically touching his collarbone. As it was, however, she couldn’t help but be glad for his presence – his arm around her waist was more comforting than it should be.

Satya was just furrowing her brows over this startling thought when Roadhog swerved around a corner and both she and Mercy toppled with screams – Junkrat caught them both and heaved them upright with a harsh breath clamped between his teeth.

“Steady up a bit mate!” He shouted. “Nearly lost ‘em both then!”

Satya met Mercy’s equally horrified gaze and gripped her tighter.

“Aw, _shit_.”

The roar of the engine throbbed throughout her entire body as Satya and Mercy both turned when Junkrat swore, face grim as he stared ahead. Her stomach dropped as she realized the police had parked their cars to create a blockade directly ahead.

“Christ.” Junkrat’s voice was strained. “Merc, can ya reach me bag, I need me mines-”

“No!” Satya pulled hard on his harness. “I have an idea. How good is Roadhog at taking ramps?”

Junkrat stared and then cackled loudly, relaying her plan to Roadhog, who grunted, though she thought the tone of it was amused and ready as he sped down the street, showing no signs of slowing down.

Satya twisted around in Junkrat’s grip so she was facing forwards, and then no longer concerned with anything even closely resembling propriety, she pressed herself backwards into him. _Hard_.

“Hold me!” She commanded, and as Junkrat’s arm tightened around her waist and Mercy gripped her equally hard, Satya let go of both of them and spun hard light between her fingers. She gritted her teeth, concentrating harder than she ever had as she visualized a ramp and laid it down with seconds to spare – the bike instantly went up an incline and launched right over the heads of the police blockade.

The moment they were in the air, Satya let her concentration drop and behind them, the hard light ramp shattered into shards of crystalline blue that dissolved before they hit the ground, and then she spun to grab Junkrat as the bike impacted on the ground with a noise that hurt. The lurch that followed almost sent them all flying, but Roadhog had obviously been expecting this, for his enormous hand had reached out to grab Junkrat and hold him steady, while Junkrat used both hands to keep her and Mercy centred in the sidecar rather than smeared over the ground.

Roadhog took a few more corners at terrifying speeds and then Junkrat began snickering, his blond hair lighting up like a particularly crispy halo every time they drove out of the darkness and into a pool of light from the street lamps. Satya realised her odhni had come free of the brooch on her shoulder, and was now streaming out behind them like a banner, whipping wildly in the wind.

“Oi Merc.” His tone was almost conversational, which Satya thought might be the most unbelievable thing about this night. “Can y’reach the bag down there?”

“I think so.” Mercy got out, peering down. “What do you want?”

“See the mines with the green smilies on ‘em? Those’ll get the coppers off our backs.”

Satya felt slightly sick. “You cannot kill them.” She frowned up at him. “They are just doing their jobs-” Gods, this was the most peculiar conversation she’d ever had, arms linked with a doctor with both of them in the arms of a lunatic atop a speeding bike.

Junkrat laughed. “Ain’t gonna kill ‘em, ‘Metra. Those are me burners!”

Satya frowned as she waited for clarification, and Roadhog took another corner, and when they straightened up Junkrat grabbed the mines Mercy passed him, one after the other, and then four of them were tossed into the street behind them. The police came barrelling around the same corner but Junkrat slammed his thumb down on the detonator suddenly in his hand, and the mines exploded with a sound that hurt her ears. Fire splashed everywhere across the road and up the sides of the buildings, sticking there and burning furiously as the police braked with screeching tyres as they tried to avoid the firestorm.

Junkrat whooped and cackled in joy. “See!” He shouted. “Burners! Sticky fire, blocks ‘em off!”

“Impressive.” Satya gasped out, pressing herself closer to his collarbone, absolutely refusing to acknowledge how warm Junkrat was, or the scent of him, or the way she could feel firm muscle shifting beneath her fingers.

“Very!” Mercy agreed, and Junkrat laughed gleefully as Roadhog sped through the streets, the police having been stopped behind Junkrat’s wall of fire. After a few more turns, the sirens they could hear were very much in the distance, and it seemed they had managed to lose the police. It was probably around two o’clock in the morning, and the night had taken on a surreal feel to it, and Satya rather thought she was dreaming as she sped down an Austrian highway leading out of the city, towards the private airport where Tracer’s aircraft was stashed, clutched in the arms of a madman.

Junkrat threw out burner mines and traps at regular intervals to block off the roads just in case the police found them again, but they managed to reach the airport without too much trouble. Everyone else was already there, and they came pouring out of the hangar to greet them. Roadhog pulled up, gravel spitting from his tyres, and Satya pulled back as soon as she was able, detaching her fingers from Junkrat’s harness, cheeks warm.

Roadhog got off the bike and headed around to where Mercy was gingerly trying to hike up her dress, and lifted her easily down as Junkrat launched himself out of the sidecar and held out his hands. Satya lifted her skirt and slipped her hand into his, letting him lift her out, his hand warm on her waist. Once on solid ground again, Satya closed her eyes for a moment.

“I could kiss the ground.” She murmured, and Junkrat snickered.

“Are you all right!?” Demanded Ana, pushing McCree out of the way as she inspected Mercy, and then when Mercy was deemed uninjured, Satya found her own self being thoroughly looked over.

“And you?” Ana continued, frowning hard, and Satya smiled.

“I’m fine, truly.” She said softly. “Just a little shaken up.”

Ana grinned at that. “Heh. You look very windblown.”

Satya huffed a slight annoyed laugh as she gathered the loose folds of her odhni to her, trying to wrap the material around her properly again.

Junkrat, to his surprise (and displeasure), found himself on the receiving end of an Ana examination, and was finally released with an order to clean himself up; Satya wrinkled her nose – he’d been clean when they’d left for the ball, but he was now covered in soot again, bright eyes shining out from a layer of grime on his face. She just dreaded looking in the mirror and finding out how much of that grime was now on her own person.

Morrison was barking orders, and Tracer was already in the dropship, ready for take-off. Satya gratefully climbed the ramp (cringing at the oil her bare feet came in contact with) and came face to face with Hana, who was practically vibrating with pent up energy. Satya was feeling fairly tired now as the adrenaline began to fade, and she wanted to sit down, but found herself waylaid by Hana first.

“Symmetra!” Hana bounced over. “You look awful!”

Satya raised a brow. “Thank you.” She said dryly, and Hana snickered.

“What happened?”

Satya sighed and sank down in the nearest unoccupied seat as Hana drew nearer – behind her, Lúcio hovered to hear her story as well.

“Widowmaker was there.” Satya’s fingers found the rent in her skirt and she scowled at it. “She and the other Talon agents set off smoke bombs and then it was just chaotic. McCree and Morrison went after her but I lost them after that…”

“McCree said she got away.” Hana reported, and Satya frowned.

“That’s unfortunate. Anyway, I ended up in the gardens – the way I needed to go to get back to the others was blocked off by Talon agents, so I headed into the hedges, where I found Mercy.”

A similarly exhausted looking Mercy sank down into a seat not far from her. “And then Junkrat and Roadhog arrived.”

“How come you rode with them?” Hana’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, and Satya met Mercy’s gaze and sighed.

“We had no choice. The way back to the vans was blocked.” Mercy explained. “So we had to go with them.”

“I can say with every certainty that if that ever happens again I will risk both Talon and the police rather than get back into that deathtrap.” Satya added, and Mercy nodded fervently.

“It was _horrifying_.”

Satya rubbed at her temple. “At least you were standing on the inside. I was closest to the edge.”

“True.” Mercy winced sympathetically. “Falling out would not have been pretty.”

“Certainly not.”

The rumble of the motorcycle’s engine started up again then, and Satya watched as Roadhog drove the bike into the belly of the dropship, parking it next to Hana’s MEKA, and Hana immediately darted over to make sure her mech’s space wasn’t being encroached upon as Junkrat and Roadhog began fastening the bike to the floor with straps. Everyone set about falling into seats, and Satya closed her eyes, leaning her head against the edge of her seat as she waited for take-off. She didn’t bother opening her eyes when someone sat on her left, but when she heard the familiar _step-clank_ of Junkrat’s footsteps drawing closer, and then the scent of smoke and soot as his weight dropped into the seat on her right, she wrinkled her nose.

Opening her eyes, Satya found that the seat next to hers had been the only available space left, so she realised she was just going to have to put up with him as Tracer made the announcement that they were taking off, and the aircraft began to move down the runway.

“So, ‘Metra.” Junkrat sounded _delighted_ , foot jiggling as he spoke. “How’d ya like the old girl?”

 _Old girl?_ He must mean the bike. Satya gave him the driest look she could muster. “I may be traumatised for life.”

Junkrat giggled to himself, exchanging a gleeful look with Roadhog, who was sitting beside Hana across the way.

“Don’t be so hard on her! She got ya here safely, didn’t she?”

“‘Safely’ being a rather relative term.” Satya fixed him with a hard glance. “I could have died at any moment.”

“But ya didn’t.” Junkrat sounded very satisfied with himself.

Satya sighed. “No, I did not; you could call that commendable, I suppose.”

His tongue curled around his golden tooth as he grinned at her, and Satya found herself smiling back.

“Couldn’t very well go drop a mate, now, could I?” Junkrat asked, foot bobbing distractedly.

Satya raised a brow and lowered her voice. “Are you implying that if we were not friends you would have dropped me?”

Junkrat paused, a very innocent look plastered across his face as he declined to answer.

“I _see_.” Satya said archly, trying to conceal her grin as she stuck her nose in the air.

A high pitched giggle issued from beside her, and Satya shook her head slightly. His laugh was honestly ridiculous. Endearing, but ridiculous. The thought passed through her mind and yet she was so preoccupied in listening to Junkrat’s hyena laugh she forgot register why exactly the thought was unacceptable.

She found it amusing how often he liked to reiterate the fact that they were friends now – since she’d actually told him that it was somewhat acceptable for him to call her his friend, he’d kept bringing it up whenever he could – and she’d only told him the day before.

Her smile faded slightly – some parts of her disagreed with being friends with him, and certainly with telling him about it. Vishkar would certainly disapprove, and really, she couldn’t fathom why she’d even told him. Well, that was a lie – his despondence while talking with Roadhog had tugged at her heartstrings until she didn’t think she could really let it go on any longer. What she really couldn’t work out was why he wanted to be friends with her. Didn’t he think she was a suit? Well, she supposed that maybe he didn’t. That’s what he’d said, at least. Junkrat was proving to be a confusing creature – how did he work out who was a suit and who wasn’t? And what about her didn’t make the cut? It was strange.

 _He_ was strange.

 Besides, there was nothing that really told her that she truly believed that they were friends. Satya found it perfectly acceptable to simply tell him that, as a method to overcome his strange and evidently uncustomary glumness. After all, the upkeep of team morale was important. It was better than admitting that perhaps Junkrat wasn’t so bad after all.

Her thoughts returned to the moment beneath the oak tree. She’d said he’d proven himself dependable. Part of her attempted to inform her that she was sadly mistaken, that he was a sooty mess that could never be relied upon, and another told her that despite his shortcomings, Junkrat hadn’t let the team down yet.

It was a thoroughly confusing situation, and Satya still wasn’t sure why she’d told him they could be friends. Yes, she knew she’d had a bit of a change of heart, but she supposed she couldn’t really continue ignoring him when he tried to make conversation forever.

It was all Junkrat’s fault, of course – she’d only meant to apologise for pulling him into the doorway that afternoon, merely to help get the mental picture out of her head, but then he’d gone and called her his _mate_ , distracting her.

Yes, it was definitely all his fault.

So, she’d decided it was time for a new tactic. While she found him incredibly annoying and overbearing at times, it was important that she be on good terms with the Overwatch team (besides Lúcio). Furthermore… she’d given things some thought, and decided it was foolish to spend so much time with him during reading lessons and time in the workshop together and then say that they were merely acquaintances.  Maybe she did feel ‘friends’ was a bit strong, but… oh well. He didn’t have to know that.

Besides, she reasoned. There was no harm in simply _talking_ to him.

“Oi, earth t’Symmetra.”

Satya blinked as orange metal waved before her face. Batting away his prosthetic hand, she frowned at him.

“What?”

“Off with the fairies, eh?” Junkrat sounded amused. Across the way, Morrison and McCree were getting into a heated debate over Widowmaker’s purpose at the ball, with Genji, Pharah, Reinhardt and Ana all chiming in with their opinions.

“I was just thinking.” Satya caught sight of her good hand then, noting the grease caught under her nails, and frowned as she searched for something to clean them with. She didn’t dare put a hand to her chignon until she had a brush and mirror to fix it, or else she’d stress about it the whole way back to the base. Coming up with nothing to clean her hands with, she looked down to realise with a fair amount of horror just how much grime was on her person.

“Gods above, I’m filthy.” She complained, lifting her skirt enough to see her bare feet, covered with dirt, grass stains and grease. “I need a shower the instant we get back.”

Junkrat snickered lightly. “Yer not _that_ bad.”

Satya raised an incredulous brow at him, and then turned her attention to her odhni _,_ which was tangled behind her. Tugging the delicate fabric free, she unpinned it from her shoulder and unwrapped it from her hip, folding it up and setting it on her lap. Turning back to Junkrat, she found him watching very intently, his gaze focused somewhere near her bare waist, before his eyes jerked back up again quickly.

“I dare say _you_ had an enjoyable evening.” Satya said, frowning slightly. Why was he looking at her like that? It was most peculiar.

Junkrat giggled, voice higher pitched than usual. “Damn roight I did.” He said, sounding immensely satisfied. “Set off some real beauties.”

That reminded her. “When we were on our way here-” Satya began, referencing the terrifying bike ride. “-you used those mines… burners?”

Junkrat nodded, his expression proud and beaming. “Roight little rippers, eh?”

“…Very.” Satya reached a hand up to adjust her tikka, which to her annoyance she realised was sitting crookedly on her forehead. “Tell me about them. How do you get them to work like that?”

Junkrat bounced a little in his seat, face shining with enthusiasm. “I call ‘em burners ‘cause I load ‘em up with – well. Anything flammable works, really. Petrol, usually. When they go off, the petrol goes flyin’ and takes the fire with it. Sticky flames, see?”

Satya nodded. “I do see.” She tilted her head. “It’s impressive.” A yawn overtook her then, and she covered her mouth. “I’m exhausted.”

Junkrat snickered. “I’m not.” That much was true – he was still bouncing his leg relentlessly, his fingers constantly on the move. He was a bundle of energy and rather exhausting to look at.

“I’m going to see if I can get some sleep.” Satya murmured, pillowing her head against the edge of the seat. “You should too.”

“Nah.” Junkrat pulled his notebook from his pocket and hunched into a ball as he started scribbling. “I’m good. Night, ‘Metra.”

“Goodnight.” She let her eyes drift shut and gradually drifted off into a restless sort of sleep. The mission had gone terribly, but at least Widowmaker hadn’t appeared to kill her target, and neither Satya nor Mercy had died in the arms of a lunatic while on board a deathtrap of a motorcycle. Really, she counted the night as something of a success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SO plot time! finally we get some non faceless Talon baddies showing up and Widowmaker is here (finally) 
> 
> poor Satya - this isn't how she pictured her night going at all XD (would she deny that she enjoyed it? yes. yes she would)
> 
> also, a small heads up - uni just finished for the semester and Im going home for christmas break, and suckily for me there is no internet at home. yeah. its pretty awful. this means that for the next three months, I probably won't be able to update, but I will keep writing and if I can get to town or something I may be able to update with more frequency!!! (rural australia + shit telstra = no internet 4me)


	19. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the Austrian mission.

Junkrat slapped his hand on the floor beside him, hunting for the spanner he’d just put down as he continued telling his story.

“-an’ then me an’ Hog went an’ got the bike, see, thought it’d be easier to get ‘round the coppers.” He wiped his brow and smeared grease across it accidentally as he peered up at Hana and Lúcio, who were sitting beside him as he sprawled across the floor, prepping an engine for a new RIPtire. He snickered. “An’ we were roight.”

Hana leaned forwards, flipping a sparkplug over to look at it. “And Symmetra and Mercy? How’d you end up picking them up?”

Junkrat sat up, because he couldn’t find the _fucking_ spanner. While hunting about, he mumbled distractedly. “Uhh… came round the hedges an’ they were both standin’ there. Musta thought we were baddies ‘cause ‘Metra had her shields ready.” He looked up at Roadhog, who was sitting in a chair beside the workbench, reading a book. “Didn’t she, Hog?”

Roadhog grunted in affirmation, and Junkrat nodded, finally finding the bloody spanner and flopping back onto the floor.

“Yeah, so, picked ‘em up an’ 76 said go straight t’the airport. So we did.”

He pulled the engine closer and lifted into the centre of the tyre, grabbing some bolts to begin screwing it into place. Hana and Lúcio had appeared about half an hour ago, wanting to talk about the mission and find out precisely what had happened. Hana had brought the pictures she’d taken yesterday before the mission went to shit, and was showing them off; she planned to stick them on the walls in the rec room. Junkrat had been amused to see one she’d taken of him, mid-yell as a trap snapped shut on his metal hand.

“Where’d you get the idea to make a bomb out of a tyre, anyway?” Lúcio asked, picking up a discarded piece of scrap as he frowned at Junkrat’s tyre. “Like, it looks sick as hell, but damn, man. How’d you come up with it?”

Junkrat giggled to himself. “Oh, _that’s_ a fun story.” He brandished his spanner and snickered. “I was fuckin’ about in Junkertown. Got on one of the big fella’s bad side. They were chasin’ me, gonna kill me an’ flog everythin’ I owned.”

Hana’s eyes were very wide.

“Ended up holed up outsida town.” Junkrat rubbed at his jaw, remembering. “They’d shot me leg, me metal one, so I wasn’t goin’ nowhere very fast.”

“What did you do?” Asked Lúcio curiously.

“There’s lotsa old cars an’ shit scattered around. Y’know, from before the omnium exploded. I was hidin’ in one, an’ old Holden.” Junkrat sighed happily as he remembered it. “She’da been a real bewdy back in the day.” He tossed a nut into the air and caught it before beginning to screw it into the tyre. “So I figured I was probably gonna die then, an’ I wanted to take out the other bastards if I could, so I started lookin’ for somethin’ real good an’ explodey.”

“And that was the tyre?” Hana asked, drawing her legs up to rest her head on her knees.

Junkrat shook his head. “Nah. Didn’t think of the tyre at that stage. Used the engine. Rigged her up with the last of me explosives an’ hid, an’ when they got close enough I blew ‘er roight up.” He mimicked the mushroom cloud of an explosion with his fingers and giggled. “Took out two of ‘em straight up, an’ then ‘cause I rigged the whole car, the wheels went flyin’. One of ‘em barrelled straight into one of blokes after me, set ‘im on fire.” Junkrat pretended to wipe away a tear. “That car saved me life, an’ I pay tribute to her by blowin’ up tyres.”

“What a _beautiful_ story.” Hana giggled, a grin on her lips.

Junkrat nodded. “Damn roight.”

“How long ago was that?” Lúcio asked curiously.

Junkrat hesitated as he always did when it came to age related things. “Well… I’d lost me leg but I still had me arm, so… musta been ‘round about… twenty? I dunno.”

Hana was just opening her mouth to ask another question when footsteps sounded and she turned to look at the door, as did everyone else.

Symmetra and Pharah entered the workshop then, Symmetra carrying a sheaf of papers and Pharah holding something mechanical; they conversed in low tones but looked up when Hana spoke up.

“Hi guys!” She said, waving cheerfully. “What are you up to?”

Pharah came over to stand near them, peering down at his RIPtire with a raised brow. “Symmetra is helping me fix my suit.” She said, nudging a piece of scrap with her foot, then motioning at the mechanical thing in her arms. “I got hit yesterday and she says she can replace the damaged component.”

Junkrat noted with a smidge of glee that Pharah didn’t sound all that convinced, to which Symmetra was clearly frowning. He eyed her somewhat wistfully; instead of that fantastic dress, she was back in her business-like skirt and blouse. To be fair, the skirt made her legs look great, but Junkrat would have liked longer to look at her in that dress - it had already featured in a late night fantasy, and he would be very far from objecting to another look at it.

“I can.” Symmetra's tone was slightly challenging. “All I need is the opportunity to examine it properly.”

Pharah swivelled on her heel. “As I’ve told you, I don’t feel… _comfortable_ , with letting just anyone look at the suit. It’s a classified design.”

“And as I’ve told _you_ -” Symmetra said, folding her arms and looking severely unimpressed. Junkrat managed to choke down his laugh before he managed to get the wrath of both of them brought down on his head. “-my discretion is assured.”

There was a moment of silence as the two women eyed each other, and then Lúcio looked up at Symmetra. “You sure about that?” And promptly got himself on the receiving end of a death glare.

“I do not appreciate comments from the peanut gallery.” Symmetra said icily, flicking them all a dismissive glance, and then she turned to Pharah. “Either you stop complaining and let me fix your suit, or you wait for Helix technicians to arrive. It’s your call.” Symmetra stalked across the room towards her workbench, irritation almost dripping from her.

Junkrat choked on another laugh as Hana and Lúcio both chimed, “ _Ooooohhh_!”

“Be quiet, you lot.” Pharah said, looking annoyed, but after a moment’s hesitation she followed Symmetra and laid the damaged part of her suit on Symmetra’s desk.

Junkrat exchanged a grin with Hana and Lúcio, the latter of whom was really enjoying Pharah’s distrust of Symmetra. Pharah didn’t like that Symmetra was working for Vishkar, a rival company – she seemed to think she was going to run off with all their secrets.

That wasn’t to say that Symmetra couldn’t hold her own – the two had been constantly sniping at each other since they’d all arrived back at the watchpoint in the early hours of the morning. They’d all endured a miserable debriefing before they’d been allowed to go to bed (Mei, Hanzo and the others who’d remained behind had been dragged out of bed and into the conference room in their pyjamas), and morale had been fairly low – especially since the mission had gone so badly. Junkrat, on the other hand, had been incredibly hyped up, from the double adrenaline rush of battle and the wild ride through Austria with Symmetra and Mercy.

To tell the truth, he’d almost forgotten Mercy had been there as he pictured Symmetra over and over again, the way she’d looked in that gorgeous dress, the way she’d practically had her nose pressed against his collarbone, the way he’d been able to slide his arm around her waist and hold her to him… the way she’d turned to used her hard light and had ended up with every inch of her form pressed against his – Junkrat blinked and attempted to think of other, _safer_ things, such as the briefing.

That didn’t help, because he only ended up recalling how Symmetra had sat, tight lipped and unimpressed, as they saw news reports about the damage to the Belvedere and the surrounding grounds, which Junkrat hadn’t realised was quite that bad. Apparently, he’d managed to set the hedge maze on fire and the whole thing had gone up in smoke – and that wasn’t even the half of it. There was structural damage to the actual palace itself as well.

Winston had been grumpy and 76 downright pissed, stomping up and down while he bitched about how the night had gone. Junkrat and Roadhog had then been bitched _at_ , for destroying so much of the grounds, to which Junkrat had lost his temper and informed all those accusing bloody bastards that if they hadn’t wanted shit destroyed, they shouldn’t have used the bloke with the bombs as their distraction. Winston had finally accepted that and gotten 76 to stop ragging on them both, and then the discussion had turned to Widowmaker.

From what he heard at the briefing, Widowmaker had made a grand entrance and then made a bit of a speech before pissing off into the bowels of the palace. Symmetra and Mercy had gone with the panicking crowd into the gardens, but 76 and McCree had gone after Widowmaker.

Junkrat had taken a great deal of pleasure in pointing out to 76 that he couldn’t exactly rip into everyone else for their performance when he’d failed in catching Widowmaker; he was pretty sure 76 would have happily hauled off and punched him for insolence, if it weren’t for Roadhog meeting his gaze threateningly.

They’d been packed off to bed at seven in the morning, and though it was now late afternoon, things were still tense. 76, Ana and a few of the others were all holed up and searching for Widowmaker, and everyone else was just kind of aimlessly milling about – with no further information, not to mention the UN throwing a fit, there wasn’t much they could do.

Having used his RIPtire at the palace last night (come to think of it, that’s probably what set the hedge maze on fire), Junkrat had made a beeline for the workshop as soon as he was able, dragging out an engine and tyre from the few he had stashed to begin work on a new one. After all, there was every possibility they’d be packed off on another mission shortly, so he needed new supplies, stat.

“ _Psst_. Rat.”

Junkrat turned to Lúcio with a questioning look, and realised he was holding a few sparklers in his hands.

“Yeah?”

Lúcio lifted the sparklers, frowning at them. “If these blow up, will I die?”

“Nah.” Junkrat dug into the pack on the floor and dug out another of his sparklers – it flashed and made a loud noise when detonated, but didn’t cause any harm. He used them as distractions, mainly. “I call ‘em sparklers. They fizz an’ carry on but won’t hurtcha.”

“Cool.” Lúcio began to examine the sparklers with interest, peering at the smiles painted on the sides. Then, he began to juggle a few of them.

Junkrat raised a brow. “Watch y’don’t squeeze _too_ hard, they might go off-”

“Don’t want that to happen.” Lúcio agreed, his motions becoming significantly lighter.

“Nope.” Junkrat rubbed at his nose absently, realising he needed a few more bolts, so he dragged himself to his feet and headed to the set of shelves next to his workbench to start rifling through the boxes, looking for the right sized bolts.

“Hey, Rat!”

Junkrat turned as Hana called out to him. “Yeah?” He called back, still looking for the right bolts.

“You still coming to the-”

Junkrat missed the rest of her sentence, because while rifling through the boxes above his head, his prosthetic hand caught the edge of a box and pulled it over the edge, sending the contents raining down over him with a thunderous sound as they impacted on the cement floor. Junkrat stood stock still, arms still raised above his head on the shelf as the last few bolts bounced off his head and to the floor.

“Fuck.” He muttered, and then broke into giggling laughter when he heard Hog heave an exasperated sigh. Hana and Lúcio started laughing too, and Junkrat turned to face them as he rubbed his sore head. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Lúcio drop the sparklers he’d been juggling, and the little blue bombs rolled across the floor.

“Oh my god, Rat!” Hana giggled. “I can’t believe you just did that!”

“Oi, ain’t like I did it on purpose.” Junkrat kicked at a bolt and gave her a lopsided grin, still snickering. “Box got caught on me hand.”

He lifted his prosthetic and flexed it – or tried to – then realised a bolt had gotten caught in the gap between hand and wrist. “Shit.” He spent a few moments tussling with it and then flicked it to the floor.

“I hope you intend to clean this up.”

Junkrat looked up at the sound of Symmetra’s exceptionally unimpressed tone, and found both her and Pharah frowning at him. Junkrat almost cringed under the double weight of their disapproval.

“Nah, figured I’d leave it all out fer the next three months.” Junkrat replied breezily, grinning as Symmetra’s raised brow lifted a few disbelieving millimetres.

“Are you in the habit of dropping boxes on your head?” Pharah’s tone was both amused and disapproving, and Junkrat bristled slightly – Pharah didn’t like him, and he didn’t like Pharah.

“Not really, nah.” Junkrat looked at her until she frowned and turned away.

“Hmm.” Pharah turned to Symmetra. “We’ve been interrupted. Shall we continue?”

“Of course.”

So now they were pretending to be nice to one another? Junkrat took a step, nearly slipped when he stood on a bolt with his peg leg, flailed about for a bit, and then let himself drop ungracefully to the floor.

Hana and Lúcio were still giggling, and now that he was close enough, Roadhog reached out and biffed him upside the head.

Junkrat scowled and rubbed at his hairline. “Oi! The fuck was that for-”

“Bein’ a dumb arse.” Hog rumbled, and Junkrat tried and failed to come up with a reason to object further.

“ _Droga_.” Lúcio mumbled. “Where did those sparklers go?”

At the mention of his bombs, Junkrat was all ears. “The fuck? Better not have lost ‘em, _mate_ -”

“There’s one over there!” Hana interjected, and she scrambled to her feet to go and grab it. “Got it!” She turned and frowned at Lúcio as behind her, Symmetra drew the wireframe of a new piece of hard light between her fingers. “How many did you have?”

“Uh…” Lúcio frowned. “Just three.”

Junkrat uncovered another one swimming in bolts, and then the hunt was on for the last one. A few minutes later, Lúcio’s cry caught his attention, and Junkrat turned to see Lúcio pointing across the room at Symmetra’s feet – just as she took a step back to widen her range of motion with her hard light, and stepped on it.

Junkrat cringed as the sparkler went off beneath her foot and she shrieked, the small explosion of smoke and sound going off beneath her causing her to lose her balance.

Symmetra toppled with a cry and tripped into Pharah, who managed to lose her feet with a squawk of shock and then they both hit the floor in a tangle of limbs. Junkrat stuffed his fist in his mouth to avoid giggling at the sight; Symmetra was sprawled on the floor, Pharah straddling one of Symmetra’s thighs and splayed over her form, their faces barely an inch from one another. Both women looked at each other, shocked, and then they turned as one to glare – at _him_.

Junkrat’s snickering immediately cut off when he realised Symmetra would no doubt assume _he_ had done it and revoke their tentative friendship status out of anger, and he looked at her in alarm.

Pharah pushed herself up to her knees beside Symmetra, who sat up and frowned in distress at the smudges of dirt now marring her formerly pristine white blouse.

“What made you think that was a good idea?” Pharah asked, voice filled with loathing, and Junkrat pointed at Lúcio.

“It was him!” He said, throwing Lúcio under the bus completely.

Lúcio spluttered a bit, rubbing the back of his head. “ _What!_ Uh, I mean, yeah, it was.” He admitted, voice small. “But it was an accident! I dropped ‘em and they rolled over to you!”

Pharah stood up and offered a hand to Symmetra, who let herself be pulled to her feet and then started fussing over her clothes. Pharah folded her arms and gave Lúcio an unimpressed look that was all military.

“My prototype is ruined.” Symmetra said, frowning. “I will have to start again.”

Pharah gave an irritable sigh at this. “Well, that’s just wonderful.” She turned to glare at them all again. “Perhaps it would be best if you gave her some space. Maybe avoid any other… _surprises_.”

It took him a moment, and Junkrat blinked incredulously at her.

Hana spoke up then. “Are you… kicking us out?”

Even Symmetra was giving Pharah a bit of a side eye, and then Junkrat giggled in joyous realisation.

“So what yer sayin’ is… if I’m kicked out, I don’t gotta pick up the bolts!” Junkrat sniggered as Symmetra turned to protest, and he all but skipped to the door.

“Wait!” Symmetra looked from the mess on the floor to him, alarm written on her features. “You cannot leave-”

“Sorry, boss’s orders!” Junkrat giggled in delight, jerking his thumb at Pharah, who looked bemused. “Toodles!” He said, making his voice high pitched, fluttering his fingers in farewell.

A moment later, a giggling Hana appeared, followed by a grinning Lúcio, and then Roadhog appeared, carrying his book.

“Yer gonna get yerself gutted by her one day.” He said, and Junkrat shrugged, unfazed.

“Probably.”

A twinge of regret ran through his stomach – didn’t he want Symmetra to somewhat maybe like him a little? He should probably stop acting like a little shit around her.

They went to the rec room to escape Symmetra and Pharah’s combined wrath, where they spent a few fun hours playing video games, both he and Lúcio losing to Hana in spectacular fashion. At least Junkrat had an excuse – he hadn’t had any exposure to games since he was a very small child, which Hana had declared to be a sin, and she was now determined to show him exactly what he’d missed out on. It didn’t really help that he had great difficulty in reading the words on the screen, either.

Junkrat’s fingers paused as they drummed on this thigh, as this thought reminded him – he hadn’t had a reading lesson since before they went to Austria, and so he pulled out his phone to text Symmetra and ask her. He figured that if she had time today, it’d let him apologise for being such a shithead in the workshop that morning too.

It took her some time to answer, which had him sweating, but eventually his phone buzzed and he looked down at the screen to see her reply.

 **{96856} Symmetra  
** Rooftop in ten minutes

He spent a moment deciphering her reply, and then mouthed the letters as he slowly typed in his response.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
chers

Junkrat frowned at the message for a moment – it was supposed to say ‘cheers’ but he couldn’t quite remember if it had two ‘e’s or one. _Eh_. He shrugged and told Hog where he was going and then left for the roof, stumping up along the corridors, and then he paused outside the workshop, and peered in. It was empty, and he ducked in to set his notebook in the drawer of his workbench. His RIPtire and assorted parts were still scattered on the floor, as were all the bolts, and he was not looking forward to picking all those up. As he went to leave, however, Junkrat paused, looking at the floor.

Hana had left all her photos behind, and he bent to scoop them up, flicking through them casually. There were pictures of everyone in here, some with the subjects posing, like the one of McCree raising his glass and tipping his hat, and some candid ones like… Junkrat’s breath caught as he paused on a picture of Symmetra.

She clearly hadn’t seen Hana taking the photo of her, for her face was relaxed and composed as she bent to her side, adjusting the way the fabric she’d worn wrapped around her body sat on her hip. She wore a smile that looked to him like a mystery… he instantly burned to know what she’d been thinking to make her smile like that. Junkrat eyed the strip of bare flesh he could see at her waist and wondered what it would be like to run his hands across there and maybe dip beneath the embroidered fabric there… he jerked slightly as he recalled that he was going to see Symmetra in just a few minutes and that perhaps this train of thought wasn’t the safest.

Junkrat set the photos down on the floor where he’d found them, but kept the picture of Symmetra, slipping it into the back of his notebook. It was too good a picture not to keep – and besides, the image of her in that dress was something he didn’t want to forget.

He left the workshop then, trudging up the long flight of stairs and inputting the security code to unlock the door to the roof. He blinked in the bright sunlight for a long moment, letting it warm him, and then moved to sit in their usual spot, sheltered from both sun and wind.

He could see a few seagulls wheeling about in the air over the ocean, and Junkrat watched them for a few minutes, until he heard the tell-tale sounds of the door opening, and turned to see Symmetra walking over, a satchel of books at her hip. He realised she'd changed her clothes - her new shirt was pristine white, without the smudges of grease from the workshop floor. The thought made him feel a smidge guilty.

“G’day.” Junkrat gave her a little wave, which she didn’t return.

“Hello.” Symmetra’s tone was rather brusque, and he frowned, wondering how to fix this. She elegantly folded herself to the ground, and gazed out at the ocean rather than look at him.

“How’d, uh, how’d Pharah go with her suit? The part work?” He asked, and she nodded, looking pleased as she always did when thinking about her hard light.

“Yes, I believe I’ve crafted a viable replacement. We installed it and now she’s down in the training grounds to give it a field test. I’ll know soon if it didn’t work, but I have no reason to think that it wouldn’t.”

“That’s good.” He mumbled. “So… about the bolts… y’know I was just messin’ with ya? I’m gonna pick ‘em up.”

Symmetra paused in the act of pulling a book out of her bag. “Indeed? I’m glad to hear it.” A wry grin covered her features then. “You _bolted_ so quickly I thought I would have to do it.”

Junkrat laughed at the joke, leaning back against the wall. Maybe she was in a good mood after all. “Nah, I was gonna.” He grinned at her. “But Pharah’s kinda scary, and we already dumped ya both on the floor. Didn’t really wanna risk anythin’ else.”

Symmetra raised a brow. “Indeed you did ‘dump me on the floor’. May I ask, was it intentional?”

Junkrat rushed to defend himself. “Nah, ‘course not! Lúcio was jugglin’ ‘em.” His grin grew a little sheepish. “Dropped ‘em ‘cause he was too busy laughin’ when I dropped the bolts on me head.”

Symmetra looked away, a slight laugh escaping her. “I have to admit, it was rather amusing.”

Junkrat pulled back and laid a hand on his heart as though he were offended. “Wouldja lookit that! Takin’ pleasure in me pain, she’s cruel, truly cruel.”

Symmetra laughed again, her smile as bright as the sunshine around them. “You laughed when Pharah and I fell over.” She reminded him, and Junkrat snickered.

“Fair point.” He scratched rather awkwardly at the back of his head. “So, uh… recovered from yesterday?”

The look she gave him was amused. “Yes. Though I will say that nothing will persuade me to get on that yellow deathtrap ever again.”

Junkrat giggled. “Ah, now that’s not fair! Y’gotta give the ol’ girl a chance. Not fair to write her off just ‘cause we happened to be havin’ a cop chase at the time.”

Symmetra raised a brow. “Nevertheless, I won’t be going anywhere near it.”

Junkrat shrugged. “Yer loss.” He said easily. “She’s great fun goin’ down the highway at a rate of knots.”

She shook her head almost disbelievingly. “Enough of this chatter. We have work to do. Now.” Symmetra pulled a book from the satchel at her side. “Let’s get started.”

“Didja bring any snacks?” Junkrat pawed hopefully at the bag, only to wind up disappointed when she raised a brow.

“…We only arrived back here at four in morning. When, exactly, do you think I’ve had time to get snacks?”

Junkrat shrugged, a crooked grin on his face. “Was just hopin’.”

The corners of her lips turned up. “Well. I’ll see what I can do for next time.”

“Cheers.” Junkrat took the book from her and opened it up, frowning down at the words. He was now at the level where he could read, albeit very slowly and hesitantly, and Symmetra was trying to improve his fluency when reading out loud. That, and punctuation, which Junkrat thought was rubbish. What did he need to know about full stops and questions marks for anyway?

What he liked, however, was that Symmetra actually was bothering to help him with this. He had really expected her to do it half-heartedly, but as time went on, it had turned out she had genuinely committed herself to helping him learn. Coming from his background, Junkrat was still befuddled that she’d be doing it without any ulterior motive or without demanding something in return. What he was coming to learn was that while Symmetra could be uptight and difficult to deal with, she was also incredibly compassionate and certainly willing to put the needs of others before her own. It was a bit of a jarring comparison to the picture Lúcio drew of her, and sometimes Junkrat didn’t quite know what to think, but he knew one thing. Sitting here in the rich Spanish sunlight, reading a book that six months ago would have been incomprehensible gibberish besides a beautiful and intriguing woman, Junkrat was enjoying himself. He truly, honestly _liked_ Overwatch.

And somehow, that was more startling than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking full advantage of the like, five minutes of internet time I have now to post this. 
> 
> poor Junkrat - things may seem chill with Symmetra and with life in general, but in the next chapter something's going to happen to shake things up a bit XD


	20. Reprimand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vishkar isn't happy with Satya, and she is faced with a tough decision.

Satya was thinking.

She thought back to their briefing, where Winston had been talking to various international organisations about the events in Vienna, and he was certainly right when he said that Widowmaker’s actions hadn’t made any sense.

Why had she come to the ball? After the little raiding party on the event planners had been intercepted by Morrison and the rest of them, surely Talon would have known that there was the risk of Overwatch showing up at the ball to intercept the hit. And why send Widowmaker? She was a sniper. She made her kills from up high, hidden in the shadows, gone before her victim hit the ground. Here, she’d paraded before the crowd, and disappeared before even attempting to make her kill.

It didn’t make _sense_.

Oh, to be sure, she’d demanded Dhanyatta be brought to her, but she hadn’t pressed the point when no one moved to obey her. Once the smoke bombs had gone off and served to disorientate everyone in the room, she’d _run_.

Why?

Satya could make neither heads nor tails of it.

She drummed a pen on her desk thoughtfully as she contemplated it, her report to Vishkar nearly completed in front of her. She’d already written out the preliminaries of the report, and was just figuring out her own hypothesis for Widowmaker’s motives, but she wasn’t having much luck.

Setting the pen down, Satya began to type, throwing in some waffle and nonsense that would chew up some length, and then frowned as she thought about it more.

It must have been a set up.

Widowmaker had seemed utterly prepared when McCree and Morrison had revealed themselves. She hadn’t even flinched when McCree burst out of the crowd and levelled a gun at her chest. Therefore, Widowmaker must have known they’d be there.

A trap. It must have been a trap… for Morrison.

Talon would have had no way to know that Overwatch would be there looking for Soldier: 76, and yet… they didn’t attack when they had him there. Remembering the firefight, Satya wryly correctly herself. They hadn’t been on the _offensive_. Rather, Talon had seemed to be attacking just for the hell of it, while Widowmaker made her getaway.

And then it hit her.

What if it wasn’t a trap, but they’d lured Morrison there anyway?

Not a trap… but a set up.

To _frame_ the vigilante.

Satya nodded to herself and put her report on the backburner for the moment, opening google and searching for Soldier: 76 – sure enough, the latest hits were all about the fight at Belvedere Palace, and half of the news articles painted 76 as the guilty party, some glossing over Talon’s involvement completely.

But why did Talon want 76 framed? And what for? It was all most confusing.

At that moment, her screen flashed, indicating an incoming video call. Seeing it was from Sanjay, Satya took a quick moment to smooth her hair and make sure she was presentable looking before answering.

After the moment it took for the call to connect, she saw Sanjay sitting in his office, his expression grave.

“Good morning, Satya.” He said, glancing away from her to scroll down on the tablet he was holding. Inexplicably, it reminded her of the tablet Junkrat had found in the Talon facility they’d raided; there was no need to think of it, really, for it held no incriminating information and now sat in her wardrobe, unused.

“Good – is it morning there?” Satya asked, trying to work out the timezones even as she had the pleasure of slipping into a language closer to that of her mother tongue. Sanjay was from Delhi and based in Utopaea, and so he spoke Hindi and not Telugu, but after weeks of English it was a welcome transition. “It’s late afternoon here.”

“Yes, it’s morning, and a rather hectic one at that.”

Satya frowned at the edge to his tone. “Hectic? Why?”

Sanjay set the tablet down on his desk and frowned, and Satya peered at his image on her screen. What was wrong?

“The Belvedere.” He said shortly, and Satya sagged slightly before pulling herself upright.

“Oh. Yes, it was a bit of a disaster. I presume Kapoor isn’t very happy. Have you much information on how much of the palace has been damaged?”

Sanjay blinked. “Yes, we have, but that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” He paused, regarding her thoughtfully. “Have you… seen the news?”

“Some. Not much.” Satya thought back to her busy day; she’d helped Pharah repair her Raptora suit, aided Morrison and the others with their efforts to trace Widowmaker, and had a quick reading lesson with Junkrat after he’d asked her. Not exactly a day conductive to watching tv. “Why, in particular?”

Sanjay’s face darkened, showing obvious displeasure. “When I woke up this morning, I had a dozen missed calls and links to news articles. Do you know what I saw when I watched the videos?”

Satya shook her head. “No?” It came out like a question, and Sanjay lifted his chin.

“You.”

“Me?” Satya frowned, racking her brains as she watched Sanjay lace his fingers together, displeased. “Where?”

“Where? On board a-” Sanjay picked up his tablet and frowned at it. “-a custom chopper outfitted with a side car, being driven by an outlaw and accompanied by another, along with an as of yet unidentified blonde woman.”

Satya’s stomach sank like a stone. “I haven’t submitted my report yet.” She said, frowning. “But you know about this? … Security footage?”

Sanjay nodded. “From a bakery in Northern Vienna. Shall I show you what has gotten over fourteen million hits in the last twelve hours?” Anger sharpened his tone, and Satya nodded wordlessly.

Sanjay held up the tablet to reveal a youtube video of some security footage. The police blockade was clearly visible, and Satya felt sick as she heard the roar of the engine and the yellow bike came into view, Roadhog clearly visible as he drove – and then she saw herself, a small and distant figure, being held by Junkrat and Mercy as she used her hard light to craft a ramp. The gleam of the streetlights clearly highlighted the white metal of her arm, and Satya let out a shaky breath at the realisation of what this meant. Sanjay cut the video off when the bike shot over the heads of the police blockade and then vanished out of frame.

“Oh no.” She whispered, and Sanjay leaned forwards, lacing his fingers together.

“I’m glad you see the gravity of the situation. Vishkar has been fielding calls all morning, from news stations, reporters, local governments, the UN – they all want to know why someone who was _obviously_ using hard light technology was careening through the streets of Vienna at two in the morning with two known criminals.” His face hardened. “Are they at Gibraltar?”

“Junkrat and Roadhog?” Satya whispered, horror washing through her at what he’d just told her. “Yes. They’ve been hired as demolition experts.”

“Demolition? Yes, from what we’ve heard of them, the smaller one is quite… _proficient_.” Sanjay’s tone was jeering. “I wonder that you fraternise with them, considering how far below you they are.”

“I don’t, not really.” Satya answered automatically. “Only when it is called for – like last night. Mercy – she was the blonde woman. That is, Doctor Zeigler. We were cut off from the others and both of us had been attending the ball incognito. We had no weapons. At the time, Mercy and I deemed it fortunate Junkrat and Roadhog found us when they did, for we certainly would have been found otherwise, by either Talon or the police. To go with them was the better option at the time.” She brushed her hair back with shaky fingers. “I – I didn’t even think of security cameras.” She whispered. “My only thought was to get out of there, and then the _police_ , and it’s very overwhelming, you know, to be pursued by the police like that. I just… didn’t think.”

“I see.” Sanjay frowned, steepling his fingers. “I’m surprised at you, Satya. To think you would be so _careless_ as to so thoughtlessly expose yourself and Vishkar this way!”

 _What…?_ “I didn’t-” She began, but he cut her off.

“It’s bad enough that Overwatch is still illegal, but this? Running from the police with two men who have bounties on their heads?” Sanjay shook his head. “You know the one who calls himself Junkrat has a bounty of twenty-five million dollars _alone_ , and now you’ve been seen with him. Their manhunt has started up once more, and Vishkar is under immense pressure to reveal who you are so you can be arrested.”

Satya’s blood ran cold. “But-”

“And not to mention the damage to the palace!” Sanjay’s voice went cold. “After you gave such assurance that if we got you in Talon’s plot would be stopped. You realise the guest list is going to be intently scrutinised, and Vishkar will be questioned when it is realised that several unauthorised guests were there under our company’s name?”

She felt sick to her stomach. If he was really saying what she _thought_ he was saying-

“But what should I have done?” Satya cried, then calmed herself. “Have our superiors thought of that? I was under immense pressure.”

Sanjay leaned back in his chair. “You should never have gotten on the bike.” He said severely. “That is the general consensus. You should have gone straight to the Austrian police and let Overwatch escape on their own. As a Vishkar representative you would have been taken care of, and your transport back to Gibraltar could have been quietly arranged the next day. Instead, you chose to reveal Vishkar’s involvement with Overwatch-” Sanjay paused and Satya felt nothing but growing horror. He was _right_. “No, not our involvement with Overwatch, not yet. At least, not unless it comes out that Overwatch has hired those Junkers. At the very least, the world media now thinks Vishkar technology is leaking into the criminal underworld, thanks to _your_ actions.” Sanjay paused for a moment. “Now, as for our superiors.” His mouth thinned. “There are calls for you to be punished. To be recalled to India, stripped of your positon and prosthetic-”

Satya gasped, her good hand immediately grasping her metal fingers. Stripped of her position and her hard light? No! It couldn’t happen. They couldn’t-

“Fortunately I managed to talk them out of it.” Sanjay continued, and pure relief flowed through her. “You’re lucky your record is otherwise flawless, or I wouldn’t have been able to. You won’t be terminated, but you are up for review. You will receive three demerits-” He continued over her gasp. “-and you will stay at Overwatch for the rest of the time agreed.” His face hardened. “But this mission will now count towards your review. If your conduct is found to be lacking, your position as an architech will be terminated.”

Her breathing was shallow and her nails dug into her palm. Terminated? Stripped of her position? Satya nodded slowly. “I will improve my conduct.” She whispered, and Sanjay nodded.

“I would expect nothing less. Don’t let me down, Satya. I took a real chance convincing our superiors to keep you on, and if there is anything less than perfect about your conduct-”

“There won’t be.” Satya shook her head firmly. “I refuse to let that happen. I won’t let anything else risk my position.”

“Good.” The image of Sanjay flickered on her screen for a moment. “Remember, _all_ your conduct is under review. I’ll take the time to remind you that if you’ve formed any… _attachments_ , with the Overwatch members, rescind them now. You are there on business. I know it would be tempting to call them friends, especially since you live with them, but your position is precarious. You can’t afford to risk it.”

Satya nodded. “No, you are right. I will make my boundaries clear. I can’t let this ruin my career.”

Sanjay looked pleased over his sternness. “Good. You’ve always been ambitious, and I’d hate to see a silly mistake ruin such potential. Remember, Satya; you are not one of them, and they are not one of us. You are there as an extension of Vishkar, no more, no less.”

“I will.” She breathed.

“Good.” On the bit of desk she could see beside him, Sanjay’s phone flashed. “I must go. Keep in mind what I’ve said, Satya. Keep them at arm’s length – you can’t afford another mistake. You’re there to aid Overwatch in their missions, but we don’t want you fraternising with criminals. Stay away from the Junkers, and if there’s anyone else with a bounty…?”

Satya thought of Ana, Hanzo, Morrison and McCree, and nodded mutely.

“Then stay away from them too. You can’t afford to sully your reputation further. I’ll keep you updated on what our superiors decide, and for _Vishnu’s sake_ keep your face _out_ of the news. Good luck.”

Sanjay signed off and the video feed turned off, but Satya barely noticed. Three demerits? She’d never in her life earned even one, and now she’d gotten three in one go! If she earned another, she’d be sent to reconditioning. Satya worried her lip with her teeth, feeling in all honesty like she was going to throw up. Sanjay’s voice rang in her ears; she couldn’t afford another mistake. Their superiors were calling for her to be stripped of her position and have her prosthetic removed. She knew she’d be fitted with another – Vishkar wouldn’t leave her armless – but there was one crucial difference. Her new arm would have no hard light capabilities, and she’d be cast off into the world completely unprepared and unsuited for any other task.

Her breathing grew shallow. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Satya shot to her feet, unable to sit any longer, and paced up and down in her small room, thinking.

Sanjay was right, of course. Now she thought about it logically, she shouldn’t have gotten on the bike. Curse Junkrat and his smug invitations – she should have put Mercy on board and stayed behind. In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t been thinking right, but now that cooler heads prevailed, she could see every glaring error that she’d made.

The use of her hard light in a public area? A mistake. A huge, awful mistake. Vishkar’s involvement with and funding of Overwatch? That was a secret, kept hidden by both agencies. A short, almost hysterical laugh escaped her. By using her hard light last night, she’d just potentially revealed that involvement, and now Vishkar was being scrutinised by the UN, among others. If there was one lucky break she’d managed to get, it was the fact that she’d been with Junkrat and Roadhog rather than other confirmed past Overwatch members, and that Mercy had been on the inside of the side car – her face was unrecognisable. There was a chance that Roadhog and Junkrat wouldn’t be connected with Overwatch, and it would be assumed that a Vishkar agent had gone rogue and teamed up with the two criminals, which was quite bad enough.

And Sanjay was right. She had grown too close to the Overwatch team – didn’t she count Mercy, Tracer and Hana as friends? Ana was lovely, though she’d only known her such a short while, and McCree had such a brotherly tone – it was so easy to get sucked into conversation with him. And _Junkrat_ – that was a mistake. Telling him they could be friends? How stupid could she possibly be? Satya knew now what had to be done – she had to cut everyone off and focus on the mission, as she should have from the start. She should never have let it come to this.

So angry, upset and sick to her stomach as she was, Satya skipped dinner and put herself to bed – her customary night routine did little to soothe her, and she tossed and turned for many hours before drifting into an uneasy sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Satya woke, there was a blessed few seconds where she didn’t remember the events of yesterday, and she lay there for a moment or two, perfectly blissful, until it all came flooding back. Sitting up with a groan, she looked at her clock and sighed – 6:23am.

She moved distractedly through her morning routine, her customary session of yoga doing little to calm her, for all the while she was thinking through what she had to do. First things first, she had to find Hana and tell her that the little movie night she’d planned for the girls later in the week? That was off limits. Satya would no longer allow herself to socialise with them all outside of professional boundaries.

The next was Junkrat. His little reading lessons had been a mistake. She’d told herself that she was helping him, and while she knew she was, it had still allowed for a closeness that bordered on social and therefore was unallowable. She would find him today and tell him that from now on, she wouldn’t be teaching him.

Satya dressed herself with cool ferocity, and went to breakfast.

Once there, she was annoyed to find that Hana was absent – she made a mental note to text her about cancelling movie night. Several people greeted her, and she greeted them back stiffly, determined to only speak with civility, and nothing more. She’d gathered her plate and was heading towards the door so she could eat in the workshop in blessed silence, when the new story on the wall mounted tv switched to the video Sanjay had shown her, and the news presenter excitedly theorised in Spanish as to who she and Mercy were – the Junker’s had been identified, and then – Satya watched with a sinking feeling as she watched herself use hard light in the security footage, and then the reporter started throwing the word ‘Vishkar’ around. So Sanjay was right. Her actions had embroiled Vishkar in all of this.

She had to find some way to repair the damage.

“Looks like you’re the famous foursome now, darlin’.” McCree drawled behind her, and Satya took a deep breath. Now would be the perfect time to inform them all of the newly drawn lines in the sand.

“Unfortunately.” She said stiffly, and then Mercy, intuitive as ever, leaned forwards, looking concerned.

“Is something the matter, Satya?” She asked, and Satya cringed inside at the use of her name. Now she would have to tell Mercy she couldn’t call her that.

“I must ask you to call me Symmetra.” She said quietly, and looked away from the expression of surprise on Mercy’s face. “And yes, you could say that.” She had the attention of everyone in the room now. “My superiors contacted me yesterday. They have deemed my actions unacceptable and – and-” Satya pulled herself together. “- they have called for me to be stripped of my position.”

Gasps echoed around the room, and Satya met Lúcio’s gaze defiantly. If he chose now to make an impertinent comment, with the mood she was in now? She’d launch him out a window. Thankfully, he merely gaped at her.

“Stripped of your position? For what?” Mercy got up and hurried towards her, and Satya took a step back. Mercy noticed and stopped, hurt on her features.

Satya motioned at the tv. “For that. I have inadvertently revealed that Vishkar is connected with Overwatch, and my superiors are not happy. Add that to the damage Belvedere palace suffered, and they are really not happy. I have been given three demerits.”

“What’s a demerit?” Asked Ana, and Satya squeezed her fingers together, looking for comfort.

“Demerits are a system of punishment for misconduct. One demerit is a slight strike on your record. If you get four in a relatively short space, you will be sent for reconditioning-” Many people in the room gasped at this word, but Satya ignored it. “-and if you fail assessment, you are stripped of your position.” She looked down. “Before yesterday, I had never received a demerit in my life. Now I have three. If I earn another and I fail assessment, my hard light capabilities will be removed and I will no longer be an architech.”

Satya swallowed hard, and suddenly she couldn’t take the pity in the room. “Excuse me.” She said quietly, spun on her heel, and left. Behind her, she heard McCree say “Christ almighty. Did she say _reconditioning_?” and then the others broke into quiet conversation.

Satya speed walked to the workshop, and due to being wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn’t check the room to see if it was empty.

That turned out to be a mistake.

“G’day, ‘Metra!” A cheery Australian voice startled her into almost dropping her plate, and Satya moved to set it down on her workbench before turning to face him.

“Good morning.” She replied quietly _. If you can call it that._

Junkrat bounded closer, a beaming smile on his face. “Picked up all the bolts, see? ‘Course, it was a roight pain in the arse an’ Hog wouldn’t help me, the miserable bastard, but it’s all clean now.” He waved his arm around the now clean floor, and Satya blinked. Such an inconsequential thing – it was hard to believe she’d been bothered by it. In the face of Sanjay’s little announcement, she’d forgotten all about the mess he’d made by dropping a bucket of bolts on his head.

“Oh – good.” She managed. Junkrat grinned, obviously waiting for her to say something further, and when she didn’t, his grin slipped slightly.

“Uh, yeah. So, can we do another lesson today?” He asked, the shock absorbers in his knee creaking slightly.

“No.” The word was brusque, and Junkrat looked surprised at her tone.

“No? Ah, okay, yer busy. Tomorrow then, maybe-”

“No.”

His brows drew together, and Satya began to feel awful at what she was about to do, but she steeled her nerves. She had to.

“Junkrat, I’m afraid I can’t teach you anymore.”

His expression changed, confusion morphing into pure disappointment. “What? Why?” Junkrat looked a smidge guilty then. “I do somethin’? C’mon, ‘Metra, y’know-”

“Call me Symmetra.” She interrupted, words harsh. “Your use of a nickname implies a familiarity that ought not exist.” Satya eyed him for a moment. “But no, it’s not you. Not completely.” She admitted. “I had a call from my superiors last night. Sanjay.” Satya paused and wished herself anywhere but here. “I have been reprimanded for my conduct the other night, and his words have made me realise some things.” She ploughed on, trying to ignore the expression on his face. “I should never have let things come this far. We are not friends-” Gods above, now he looked _hurt_. “-and we never will be. I should not have offered to teach you. That is a task outside my professional duties and I was foolish to take it on.”

Junkrat looked lost and hurt and if truth be told, rather pathetic. “But – me readin’-”

“Get Roadhog to help you.” Satya kept her expression severe as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, Junkrat, but I was acting outside of what I was authorised to do, and I won’t do so any longer.” She should have stopped there, but her tongue ran away with her, trying to get him to change his expression. Gods, why did he look so genuinely _disappointed?_ “Please don’t think it’s personal. Vishkar has redefined my role here and I cannot change that.”

She had to get out of there before it got any worse. Spinning on her heel abruptly, Satya flinched to see Roadhog standing silently behind her, evidently listening.

“Excuse me.” She muttered quietly, _angrily_ – how dare Junkrat make her feel guilty like this. Quite unable to help herself, Satya looked over her shoulder as she reached the door – Roadhog was standing beside Junkrat, a hand on his shoulder, and Junkrat – Junkrat was watching her go with an expression that could only be described as forlorn.

Satya made her escape, rushing back to her room and locking herself in. She threw herself angrily down on her bed, tears of hot frustration pricking at her eyes. How had she lost all control of her life in so short a time? She _hated_ it, hated every single thing that made this happen. Most of all, however, she hated the look on Junkrat’s face.

Why should that affect her? Why should she feel so guilty? His reading level had advanced to the point that he could really continue on alone if he tried, but still… the betrayal on his face… it cut her, and Satya didn’t know _why_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you may now consider things 'shaken up'. I hc Satya to be quite ambitious, and she's worked her way up the ranks of the corporation to become one of the best. She won't let anything risk her position - though she may be overreacting a little. time will tell!
> 
> the next chapter will feature a very sad and dejected little rat~


	21. Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat deals with what Symmetra told him - and they receive word of their next mission.

Junkrat was pissed as hell. Things had been going so well – Symmetra talked to him, laughed at his jokes (sometimes), sat with him – and said they were friends. All of a sudden, she turns around and says that Vishkar ‘reprimanded her’ and now they can’t be friends.

She hadn’t spoken to him in three days outside of an occasional hello, and nothing further unless he prompted her. Even then, her responses were lacklustre and empty. Junkrat didn’t like it. Something else that he didn’t like – that he was so wound up over her. _She is a suit_ , he told himself firmly, rolling over in bed. _It’s no good gettin’ feelin’s over a suit._ Try as he might, the lectures didn’t work. Roadhog was sympathetic, at least, though Junkrat knew he was gonna have to stop moping soon, because Hog would get sick of it real fast.

Fed up with the too soft bed, Junkrat wiggled out and let himself fall ungracefully to the floor, unfolding himself around his traps and prosthetics where he’d left them for the night, and he scowled up at the dark ceiling. Fumbling around until he came up with the small penlight he kept near his bed, he flicked it on and then reached for his notebook, rifling through it until he found the small photo of Symmetra he’d flogged from Hana.

Christ, she was so beautiful… Junkrat snorted to himself and thrust the picture and notebook off to the side. Had he really been fooling himself into thinking he’d have a chance with a woman like her? Maybe her Vishkar directive was for the best. Stopped him from making a fool out of himself, at least. Junkrat absently massaged the stump of his arm, staring blankly at the dark ceiling.

What he was certain of, however, was that he’d gladly punch this Sanjay bloke if he ever met him. What a bastard – Hana and Lúcio had told him what Symmetra had told them all at breakfast – about how she was in deep shit over the Belvedere fiasco, and for using her hard light in public. Lúcio reckoned that she’d said they’d take her prosthetic away if she made another mistake, and that only cemented Junkrat’s beliefs that suits were bastards and that Vishkar was the worst of the worst.

He rolled over so he was lying on his stomach, and then Junkrat scowled into the carpet. It would no doubt be easier if he was able to sleep, but he wasn’t. He tossed and turned for hours on end and usually ended up back in the workshop tinkering away at ungodly hours.

Junkrat picked himself up off the floor and sat amongst his traps to put his prosthetics back on. He wasn’t going to get any sleep, so he figured he might as well go down to the workshop and work on his bombs for a while. He groaned as he looked at the clock, which read 2:43am in red blinking numbers. Junkrat hit the lights and winced in the fluorescent glare, then tugged on his shorts and left his room, ambling down the dark corridors at a slow pace.

Once he’d left the barracks and was en route to the workshop, a monitor embedded in the wall lit up with Athena’s soft glow.

“Good morning, Junkrat.” The robotic voice crooned, and Junkrat yawned slightly.

“Mornin’.” He had been wary of Athena in the beginning, totally unsure of whether or not to trust her, because she was an AI, and AI’s were what made a bot. As time went on, however, it became apparent that she was less of an omnic and more of an intelligent computer, which meant he could feel better about utilising her. Besides, she often kept him company when dragging his weary carcass around in the wee hours.

“You’re up early again.” Athena blinked at him from the wall as he walked along, and her voice moved from speaker to speaker to keep pace with him. “That makes it three days running. Perhaps you ought to see Mercy about it.”

“Nah. Y’can stop buggin’ me, y’know. I know it ain’t good, but I don’t want tablets.” Junkrat dragged a hand through his hair.

“Very well.” Athena fell silent and left him alone with his thoughts until he reached the workshop. The doors slid open with a dull hiss, and Junkrat ambled over the threshold only to stop dead when his gaze met that of another person.

He blinked; he hadn’t expected anyone to be here at this time of night. Then, realisation – it was Symmetra.

“Oh.” His voice was rusty from lack of sleep, and Junkrat cleared his throat. “Didn’t know y’were gonna be here.”

Symmetra watched him for a moment, and she put a hand to her neck, pulling the collar of her robe tighter against her. The motion drew his gaze, and Junkrat realised she was wearing something he’d never seen her wear before – a knee length robe of charcoal silk. He _presumed_ she wore pyjamas beneath it, and dragged his gaze away.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She said softly, and Junkrat turned towards his workbench, scratching absently at his chest, fingers running over the scars there.

“Me neither.” He tossed over his shoulder, words short and bitter; there wasn’t any point in trying to get into conversation. She’d made her stance clear enough.

Symmetra hadn’t turned on the main lights, so the workshop was cool and dim, a faint blue glow issuing from the overhead safety light providing the only illumination. It made everything take on a vaguely ethereal quality, as though it wasn’t quite real.

Junkrat dropped into his chair with a creak and tightened the hold his prosthetic hand had on the stump of his arm, and then pulled a half completed mine towards him.

Symmetra didn’t speak and neither did he – they worked in silence in the dark room, though Junkrat occasionally looked over to see what she was doing. He couldn’t help himself. She looked exhausted, he realised, and what little light there was casting flickering shadows over her face and highlighting the deep circles under her eyes.

On another glance, he realised her hair was quite messy, hanging rough and unbrushed over her shoulders, quite different from the sleek shiny mass he was used to. Junkrat wondered why; she was usually the kind of woman who refused to appear in public with one strand of hair out of place, let alone in her pyjamas.

She appeared to be pouring over some plans or other, using the light of the tablet she was scrolling through to see what she was reading; every minute or so, she would pick up her pen and scribble something down. She wasn’t using her hard light, so Junkrat was at a loss as to what she was doing.

Some minutes later a quiet noise caught his attention, and Junkrat looked across to see Symmetra with her eyes screwed shut, hand over her mouth as she yawned with a noise in the back of her throat.

“Tired?” His quiet voice broke the silence and Junkrat cursed his own inability to keep his mouth shut.

Symmetra looked across at him, her hand lowering from her mouth. “Yes.” She admitted. “I’ve stayed awake too long, but I must finish this.” She motioned at the piles of paper in front of her.

“What are ya doin’?” Junkrat asked, craning his neck to peer at her. “Buildin’ somethin’?”

Symmetra shook her head. “No, I’m trying to make up for my mistakes.”

Junkrat blinked; either he was dumb or it was too early in the morning to parse her words, but that sounded too cryptic to make out.

“…mistakes?” He echoed, and Symmetra nodded.

“I must redeem myself. It’s been days, and I-” She cut herself off, eyes widening as she looked at him. “I should not be speaking of this to you.” Junkrat distinctly heard what she muttered under her breath. “Vishkar would not approve.”

Junkrat scoffed.

Symmetra turned to look at him, something acerbic in her manner. “You don’t think that is a good enough reason?”

“Nope.” Junkrat made the _p_ sound pop, and leaned back in his chair to appraise her. Bitterness at her employers burned in his veins and drew poison to his tongue.

Symmetra frowned. “Why?”

Junkrat shrugged casually, all the bitterness and hurt bubbling in his gut and falling from his lips; he barely realised what he was saying in his rush to prove exactly how much she’d hurt him. “Didn’t think y’were that much of a coward, t’be honest.”

Symmetra sat up straight, eyes blazing. “A _coward?”_ She asked, and Junkrat nodded.

“Sure. What else d’ya call a woman who won’t talk t’anyone anymore ‘cause she’s scared of her bosses?”

Her mouth twisted. “You have no idea what you’re talking about-”

Junkrat leaned forwards, picturing her precious Sanjay Korpal in his mind and mentally spitting on him. “Don’t I? Y’were just fine, an’ now yer spooked. I call _that_ cowardice.” A thought occurred to him. “No, wait, I don’t. I call that bein’ a suit.” That was it. Junkrat eyed her bitterly. That’s what had been chewing at him for the past few days. “I was wrong. Yer nothin’ but a miserable _suit_. No heart whatso-fuckin’-ever.”

Symmetra shot to her feet then, scooping up her tablet and several sheets of paper which she clutched to her chest, her face pinched with rage. “How _dare_ you speak to me in such a manner.” She spat. “You are nothing but an uneducated, filthy _Junker!_ It is a wonder I ever took pity on you at all.”

She stormed from the room then, leaving Junkrat to sit there in the dark workshop with fists clenched and a sick feeling in his gut.

He’d just royally fucked up.

He rubbed his jaw, fingers sliding over rough stubble, and he ignored the vague voice in his head that told him he’d need to shave soon in favour of going over what had just happened. Christ, why the hell had he opened his bloody mouth? Of course… now he’d said it, he couldn’t quite deny that that was what he felt – he didn’t like to think it, but maybe he had been wrong. Maybe there were no redeeming qualities about her. Maybe… maybe she _was_ just a suit.

“Can’t trust a suit.” He muttered the words bitterly, rolling them around his mouth as if gauging the taste.

It was at that moment he registered her last words. “ _Pity_.” He spat, hurling the word as though it were poison. Symmetra didn’t care about him at all. Filthy, uneducated Junker… she was only teaching him because she _pitied_ him? Junkrat shot to his feet and stood there, humming with the need to break something – to blow something up. He grabbed a mine unconsciously, but then his surroundings worked their way back into his mind. He couldn’t blow the workshop to smithereens, no matter how badly he itched to. Junkrat made his fingers uncurl from the mine and dropped back into his chair, recalling her first sentence, and then realised something that made him feel utterly miserable.

_Vishkar would not approve._

There – that was his proof. Hadn’t she been entering into conversation with him? Pity or no pity, she would have talked to him, but then she reminded herself of Vishkar and the fact that they would disapprove, and so she left. It was _their_ fault she was like this.

_Bastards._

_Bloody fuckin’ cocked up wankers._

Junkrat rubbed his good hand over his prosthetic as he sat there in the dark and fumed.

 

* * *

 

Junkrat spent the rest of the night in the workshop by himself, with Athena occasionally piping up to tell him he ought to go to sleep, to which he countered by telling her to stuff a sock in it.

Athena had told him that she didn’t have mouth and so he’d have to come up with an alternative method of silencing her – Junkrat had thrown a spanner at the wall and she’d taken the hint.

Once the sun was up, he’d slunk back down to the barracks and met up with Roadhog in his room, and he was now lying on the floor, bitterly complaining.

“An’ _then_ , Hog, if ya can believe it, she goes ‘Vishkar would not approve’! Who’re they t’tell her who she can an’ can’t talk ta! Buncha wankers.”

Hog nodded but didn’t say anything.

“But y’know what that _means_ , roight Hog?” Junkrat tipped his head back so he could take in the full view of his friend.

Roadhog paused, then shrugged.

“It _means_ she’s willin’ t’talk t’me. Maybe. She wanted to. I’m pretty sure.” Junkrat frowned at the ceiling, sticking his hand into the air and waving it around to emphasise his point. “It’s just that she _won’t_ , ‘cause of those Vishkar bastards.”

“Suits ruin everythin’.” Roadhog rumbled, and Junkrat nodded vigorously.

“Bloody oath they do. Bastards.” Junkrat paused. He hadn’t mentioned the little… disagreement yet. “Hog…”

Roadhog turned towards him. “What did y’do.” He said flatly, and Junkrat cringed. He really had to learn not to use that tone of voice when he knew he’d fucked up.

“I, uh… kinda….” He blew out a frustrated breath. “After she said that… I mighta accused her of bein’ a coward, an’ bein’ a suit all proper like. Y’know… cold an’ unfeelin’.”

Roadhog watched him for a long moment. “Idiot.” He growled, and Junkrat nodded.

“Yeah.” He said despondently. “She got real pissed off. Told me I’m filthy an’ undeducated, which is true, roight, I know that much, but then she said she didn’t know why she took pity on me.” Junkrat managed a bitter laugh. “Y’see? She was only teachin’ me ‘cause she pitied me.” He rolled over and pressed his face to the carpet. “I’m a fuckin’ moron.”

Roadhog heaved himself to his feet. “Yep, y’are. No point in mopin’. It’s over now. C’mon.” He grunted, turning to open the door. “Time fer a feed.”

Junkrat could find no real reason to object, even though he wasn't very hungry, so he scrambled to his feet and fell into step alongside Hog as he headed down the hall towards the kitchen. Maybe Hog was right. Maybe it was over, and he could work towards putting Symmetra behind him. When they got to the kitchens, they found Reinhardt serving up mounds of sausages and fluffy scrambled eggs, which lifted his spirits somewhat. At the very least, it was a distraction.

“Yummo.” Junkrat grabbed a glass of orange juice and tucked in; they were joined at their table by Hana and Lúcio a few minutes later. Hana looked half asleep still, and Lúcio was humming some sort of song.

Symmetra came and went; she hadn’t eaten in the kitchens since Austria, and took her food to her room or the workshop instead. Everyone else was there, gathered around their breakfast and chatting animatedly.

Junkrat was in the middle of trying to explain without explaining why he was in a shitty mood to a concerned looking Hana when the doors hissed open and Winston entered, looking grave.

“Listen up, everyone.” The gorilla raised his voice, and conversation died down as everyone turned to look at him. Junkrat did so with relief – now he didn’t have to concoct excuses.

Once Winston had everyone’s attention, he adjusted his glasses and continued. “I’ve received a call for help.” He said, and Junkrat furrowed his brows. A call from _who?_ “From Siberia.” The gorilla continued. “We’ve been so busy with Talon we’ve barely put thought to the omnics in Western Europe. It really does look like the start of a second Omnic Crisis, so it’s been decided. We’re going to leave Talon for the moment and head for Siberia to meet up with their forces, and we will aid the fight. Finish breakfast and then we’ll meet for debriefing in-” Winston checked the time. “-one hour.”

Tracer got up and followed the gorilla out of the room, questioning him intently, and Junkrat turned to the rest of his table with raised brows.

“Well, that was unexpected.” He said, and Hana nodded, eyes wide.

“Things must be getting pretty bad in Siberia.” She said, and Lúcio snorted.

“You’ll have fun, won’t you Rat? Get to blow some evil omnics up.”

Junkrat elbowed Hog and giggled. “Gonna have us a bot barbecue!” He crowed, and from across the room, Genji glared at him beside a tranquil looking Zenyatta.

Torbjörn leaned across from the next table. “Ah, ye’ll finally have a chance to use those bombs against the bots, ey?”

“Sure will!” Junkrat laughed again, excitement boiling through his blood just at the thought of it – god, it was a such a perfect distraction from Symmetra he could have kissed that bloody ape. His fingers tapped energetically along the edge of the table, just itching to have a bomb to shove beneath the grill of a bot and watch it get blown sky high. Christ, as far as Junkrat was concerned, the briefing couldn’t come fast enough. Siberia was now the place he wanted to go most of all – but wait. Wasn’t Siberia fuckin’ _cold?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whooo Junkrat is terrible at dealing with his emotions, who would've guessed?
> 
> at least in Siberia we'll meet a certain pink haired lady~
> 
> in terms of any reconciliation between Symmetra and Junkrat? well, after this, they've got some issues to work through that will take time, though Symmetra will find something that changes her perceptions sooner than she'd have thought~


	22. Snow Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang's all here - and Zarya too~

Satya was not having the best day. First, she missed the initial announcement of the new mission to Siberia because she’d taken her food back to her room. Then, she’d nearly missed the briefing because no one had told her it was on – from what she gathered, they all just assumed someone else would have told her, which was supremely annoying. A spike of regret crawled through her – if she was on speaking terms with them all like she’d used to be, she wouldn’t be having these sorts of problems. Still, such closeness to the rest of them was not necessary. Satya strengthened her resolve and straightened in her chair. What was most important was redeeming herself in the eyes of Vishkar, and she was willing to do whatever she could to achieve that.

The briefing had gone as expected – Winston had relayed their mission, which was to rendezvous with the Siberian forces and help hold the line. From the information they’d received, the humans had constructed a line which they were holding as the omnics attempted to breach it and make for the human settlements beyond.

It sounded clear cut enough, though things would most probably seem more complicated when they arrived, but Satya had found a problem; through the whole briefing, Winston had not once mentioned her. Every single other person had been assigned their duties, like Mercy, who’d just left to start putting together her medical supplies, to Reinhardt, who was intently discussing his armour with Ana, to the Junkers, the smaller of whom was now loudly discussing how many bots he was going to blow up with Torbjörn. Her mouth twisted when her gaze moved over the Junkers – anger still bubbled in her stomach from last night. Junkrat’s sheer insolence – she couldn’t quite believe he’d _dare_ to speak to her in such a fashion.

Symmetra jerked her thoughts back to the mission. Pretty much everyone else was going – even Hanzo, and he wasn’t even an Overwatch agent. He just kind of… existed at the base while he repaired relations with his brother and occasionally went along to aid small missions. This would be his biggest one to date. Mei and Hana were chatting animatedly – Mei was pleased because the climate at this time of year meant that Siberia would be quite chilly, and Hana was pleased because she and her MEKA had been trained to take out omnics, and she would be able to properly exercise her skills once more.

Satya frowned slightly. Winston… hadn’t mentioned her at all. Not her role, not anything. She pushed herself up and out of her chair and headed over to where the Gorilla stood at the head of the conference table, scrolling through a tablet and speaking in low tones to Tracer.

“Winston, may I speak with you?” She asked when she was close enough. Tracer turned to grin at her.

“Hey, Symmetra. I’ll catch you later, big guy.” She said, patting the gorilla on the arm and then she zipped off across the room, and Winston polished his glasses for a moment before replying.

“Symmetra. Anything wrong?”

Satya folded her arms. “Yes. You didn’t mention me at all during the briefing. What will be my role?”

Winston sighed. “I think it would be for the best if you stayed behind for this one.” He said, and Satya’s mouth dropped open.

“ _What?_ Why?”

“I know you’re under review for what happened at the ball. Vishkar contacted me, and I think it would be best if you stayed behind. You know, so you don’t risk losing your place.”

Satya ignored the utter ignominy of having Vishkar contact Winston to tell him about her reprimand in favour of striding forwards a step. “But that’s exactly why I _must_ go.” She said, trying to convince him. “I’ve been waiting for a suitable mission, and this is it. This is my chance to redeem myself.”

Winston watched her solemnly for a moment. “It’s not just that. You’ve pulled back, stopped talking to anyone. How are we supposed to operate as a cohesive unit if you won’t communicate?”

Satya’s mouth opened but nothing came out as she stared, aghast. “I – Vishkar – my superiors-” She got out, and Winston raised a hand.

“I know what your employers think. I spoke to a fellow by the name of Sanjay Korpal – do you know him?”

Satya nodded. “He’s my direct superior. I report to him.”

“Well, I spoke to him, and from the way he spoke… with all due respect, Vishkar has nothing to with anything even remotely military. I can see where they’re coming from in giving you those kinds of directives, but in this kind of scenario? It’s the worst possible thing to do. We need to be able to trust one another with our lives, and at the moment, we can’t trust you. We could, but now we can’t.”

Satya was utterly unable to come up with anything to say. “I-”

Winston softened slightly. “You’re a good agent, and an excellent addition to the team. Your skills are unparalleled and give us an edge. Believe me, I _want_ you on the team. But I’m not willing to risk it if you are going to put a directive made in cushy executive seats above the lives of the rest of us. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Satya nodded stiffly. “I understand.” She laced her fingers together and stepped forwards. “Winston, please let me go to Siberia. I won’t pretend that I’ve had very little on my mind besides making my wrongs from the Austrian mission right again, but I can see that you are right. I’ve acted rashly in cutting everyone off.”

Satya had seen no such thing. Vishkar was still the most important thing on her mind. She _had_ to redeem herself.

Winston considered her for a long, slow moment. “Very well. You may come to Siberia. But Symmetra-” He adjusted his glasses. “-you _must_ integrate with the team again, or I _will_ sit you on the sidelines. Play nice with the others; what Vishkar doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

Satya blinked at this last line and then Winston moved off, speaking to Athena about preparations.

 _Well_. First, she mustn’t associate with the others, or she might lose her place. Now, she _must_ associate with them, or the same thing would happen. Satya sighed slightly, massaging her temple briefly. This week had been so _confusing_.

Still, she knew she needed to mull things over carefully. Under no circumstances would she allow herself to fall back into the same rut – Sanjay was right. These people were not her friends, and they could never be. She needed to find some sort of balance between her professional and personal life, though she supposed even on down time she was still here on business. Satya was determined to draw her line clearly in the sand.

But…

Winston. She pursed her lips. That presented a problem. Of course, she could see where he was coming from; in a unit where she needed to be able to trust everyone else with her life, and vice versa, she could see that pulling back would tug at the stitches which wove Overwatch together. Even the Junkers, mercenaries that they were, had everyone else’s back. Satya frowned and shook her thoughts from the Australians. Perhaps… perhaps she might look towards becoming a little more open with everyone. It wouldn’t be that hard to convince them that any conversation to be had was to be of a purely professional nature, right? That way, she could participate in missions and planning and other Overwatch related things, but she could avoid movie nights and shopping long pointless conversations, which represented socialisation and therefore danger to her place within Vishkar.

Satya nodded, pleased with this assessment of things. That way, she could satisfy both Vishkar and Winston’s demands. Her smile slipped slightly when Junkrat’s words from last night echoed in her mind unbidden. He’d called her a _coward_. For a second, unease gripped her as she wondered if it were true – what if she were taking the easy way out? What if she _was_ a coward, doomed only to be a mindless pawn of Vishkar? Satya shook her head. _Impossible_. She was considered one of Vishkar’s crown jewels, one of their most prized architechs. They would never treat her in such a fashion. She was, and always would be, an equal in the eyes of even her superiors. Junkrat was wrong. He was utterly, utterly _wrong_.

But…

Despite his inaccurate and _inappropriate_ words, Satya couldn’t help the guilt that clenched in the depths of her belly as she thought of Junkrat. No matter what he’d said to her, she should never have responded the way she did. She wouldn’t take back the _filthy_ remark – there was no denying that one, but the other? She’d called him uneducated and basically implied that Junkers were below ordinary people, and she’d seen the look in his eyes.

Satya chewed on her lip for a moment. No, she should not have said that. The slip in professional conduct aside, she should not have used something so entirely outside his control as a basis for insult. Junkrat was mostly illiterate, but through no fault of his own. Part of her knew she needed to apologise, but the rest of her pride told her no. He’d insulted her first. Called her a _coward_. Either he apologised too – or neither of them would.

 

* * *

 

The landscape of Siberia was bleak and desolate. What they flew over on their way to rendezvous with the Siberian troops holding the line had already been the site of a battle – charred and uprooted trees littered the ground, the still smoking forms of fallen omnics lightly sprinkled with snow. Every eye in the belly of the dropship turned to Genji when they first sighted the omnics, who sat still, katana balanced across his knees, managing to both look meditatively calm and very tense at the same time. Zenyatta had not been permitted to come – they were entering an area where human-omnic relations were very tense, and Winston had been concerned that someone would take the monk for a threat.

Therefore, Zenyatta was at the base keeping Athena company. It worked out rather well then, for it meant that Zenyatta was separated from the Junkers, who tended to look _especially_ mutinous when he was around.

The seating plan for the trip had been plotted very carefully –Genji had compulsory seating at the very front of the dropship, while the Junkers and Torbjörn had been stashed down the far end, nearest to the doorway. Satya found herself seated somewhere in the middle, and having recalled Winston’s words, had drawn the people sitting on either side of her into conversation regarding the mission. It chagrined her to see their open surprise when she began to speak, but McCree was an easy going person, and settled very comfortably into conversation. He sat – or lounged, rather – on her left, and Mei sat on her right. It was fortunate, really, that she’d ended up sitting beside who she had – the pair of them were easy to talk to, and that made things slightly easier.

Satya was determined, however, to not let Sanjay’s words escape her. She’d given things some thought and decided that maybe she’d been a little too severe in her initial reaction, but she was determined to keep things _professional_.

The temperature had dropped significantly the closer they got to Siberia, and most people were starting to put on another layer of clothing, having been specifically instructed to bring extras. According to the reports Tracer put over the intercom at regular intervals, the current temperature was nearing -12°C, and though it wasn’t absurdly freezing, people such as herself who were from more temperate climes were feeling the bite in the air. It was a strange contrast to Gibraltar, which remained decently warm all year round, and even Austria hadn’t been this cold – it had been cool and a bit nippy, but nothing like this.

Another such person who was feeling the cold was Junkrat. Satya had been passing when Mercy asked the Junkers where their extra clothing was, and had heard Junkrat point blank say that he didn’t own a jumper. Apparently, they’d plotted their round-the-world crime spree to follow the warmer seasons, retreating to more tropical countries during the winters. Now, however, there was no way for Junkrat and Roadhog to escape the cold, and Junkrat was complaining bitterly, looking unusually covered up in bulky winter clothing that Mercy had recruited from Gods only knew where. He’d already managed to singe the sleeves and put a hole in the pants trying to get his prosthetic leg on, and so Satya hoped the previous owners had come to terms with the destruction of their clothes.

She herself was wearing Vishkar issued winter clothing rather than her blue and gold dress, and though she felt very bulky with the extra padding, it was needed. There was no heating in the dropship, and it was cold as they tore through the skies towards the Siberian base of operations.

They arrived without much ceremony – Tracer announced over the intercom that she’d made contact with the Siberians and had been cleared to land. The next thing Satya knew, the dropship was down on the tarmac and the door hissed open, letting cold air rush in. She recoiled with a noise of displeasure and drew her coat tighter around her form, then exited the ship with the others.

Winston and Pharah made a beeline for the Siberian commander who’d come to meet them, and Satya could see Morrison eyeballing the place critically. The soldiers scattered about looked grim, and explosions echoed from on the horizon, seemingly in the mountains behind the forest. The air was cold and dim, with poor visibility, and little wonder – the days were getting shorter this far north, and soon it would be dark, though it was still the afternoon.

Her breath curled out from her in little puffs of vapour when she breathed, and for a moment, Satya amused herself by attempting to breathe different shapes while McCree and Junkrat whined about the cold behind her. Her attention was caught by Winston approaching alongside who she assumed were the leaders of the Siberian operation.

Following introductions, it was revealed that the Siberians were being supplemented by the Russian army, and there were some Ukrainian forces there as well. Satya listened to the languages they spoke with a degree of envy; she’d had the opportunity to study Russian while at the academy, but she’d gone with Spanish instead. While her Spanish had served her well, she found herself wishing she’d learnt some degree of Russian.

Currently, Major Stoyanova was in charge at the base, which was less of a base and more of a huddle of concrete buildings tucked in a cleared area in the centre of a snowy forest. Satya found herself eying the buildings and planning improvements to them – why, if she had a few spare hours she could entirely redesign the compound and make the trip from barracks to command post to dining hall much more cohesive and pleasant – she was jolted from such imaginings when an explosion sounded, much closer this time. A man in military dress sprinted out from the command post and skidded to a stop before the major, Russian pouring forth rapidly between them. Major Stoyanova pointed in the direction of the explosion and barked an order; almost immediately, a crew of several heavily armed men and women rushed forwards into some jeeps and tore off through the trees.

“Come inside now.” The major said grimly, her accent heavy. “Out of ze cold.”

They were all escorted into the main hangar, where planes and vehicles were parked, including Tracer’s dropship. Tracer was there as well, attempting to explain something to a Russian man who evidently didn’t speak a lot of English.

Stoyanova barked another order, and a young woman in a thick coat went scooting off towards the building that housed the barracks.

“I have assigned one of my own to show you ze ropes.” Stoyanova continued. “She will lead you on your mission-”

“What will be happening?” Interjected Morrison. Stoyanova looked displeased at the interruption.

“There is nothing to be done tonight; ze sun will set soon and we will lose visibility. We are holding the line, but zat is it. We cannot push forward or strike at ze omnics whilst also holding ze line and preventing zem from moving towards villages and towns.” Stoyanova nodded, her mouth a grim line. “Zis is where you will come in; we want you to move forwards beyond ze line and attack ze omnics. Take down as many as you can whilst we hold ze line.”

Morrison nodded. “Makes sense.” He shot a look at Winston and then nodded again. “We can do that.”

“Good.” Stoyanova turned her attention to the doorway, where the young woman she’d ordered out of the room had returned, walking beside a very large figure swathed in a bulky coat. The woman lowered her lightly snowy hood and eyed them all calmly, moving to stand before her major and salute.

While the two women conversed briefly in Russian, Satya eyed the woman with a sense that felt almost like wonder. She was very tall, and extremely well built – Satya didn’t doubt that this woman would be able to pick up several of them at once with no problem. Her cropped hair was dyed a vibrant shocking pink, providing an intense splash of colour in the dim hangar, and she had a scar that started above her right eyebrow and continued down over her eye. All in all, she made for a very interesting figure.

“Zis is Aleksandra Zaryanova.” Major Stoyanova announced. “She will take you beyond ze line tomorrow.”

Morrison stepped forwards. “Zaryanova? I’ve heard of you.” He said, offering his hand. “The weightlifter, am I right?”

Satya blinked; _weightlifter?_ Then again, she reflected, if there was anyone in this room whom she would pick for the profession, it would be Zaryanova.

Zaryanova chuckled. “Yes, zat is me.” She shook Morrison’s hand and Satya was amused to see him wince slightly. “Call me Zarya; everyone else does.”

Zarya turned back to Stoyanova then and spoke in Russian; the major replied and Zarya nodded.

“Follow me.” She said loudly. “I will show you to your bunks.”

Satya barely suppressed a grimace; she wasn’t looking forwards to sleeping in the cold military barracks.

Once there and once everyone had been assigned a bunk, introductions began. Zarya proved to be a cheerful and capable woman, and she hit it off with Mei straight away. It wasn’t until Genji stepped forwards from the back of the group that she paused, jaw suddenly clenched.

Genji had a loose military style jacket slung over his form to help blend in slightly, but his luck had just run out. Zarya loosed a Russian growl and launched herself forward, pinning Genji up against the wall by his throat.

“Omnic!” She snarled, and Genji struggled.

“I’m not an omnic!” He got out, though Satya wouldn’t have thought the robotic quality to his voice helped matters much.

Hanzo shoved everyone aside and latched on to Zarya’s arm. “Stop!” He commanded, spitting Japanese words that were intelligible to her. “He is not an omnic; he is my brother!”

Zarya paused, still keeping Genji pinned, but no longer actively strangling him. She looked from Hanzo to Genji and back again, then raised a brow in question.

“It’s true!” Genji’s voice was a little garbled. “We are brothers! I just happened to meet with an unfortunate… _accident_ , which required this.”

When Genji paused on the word ‘accident’ Hanzo looked away, shame written on his features.

Mercy darted forwards then. “Zarya, please. It’s true; I was the one who operated on Genji. His injuries were so extensive that I was required to replace a good portion of his organic body with mechanical components in order to save his life, but he is still human on the inside.”

Hanzo looked even more ashamed; and a little disgusted.

Zarya considered these words and then dropped Genji back to his own feet. “Hmm.” She said darkly. “You say he is human on the inside?”

“Very much so.” Mercy replied firmly.

Zarya was still glaring at Genji. “Somehow, I doubt it. Still, he may stay.” She got up in Genji’s face then. “Though I will have my eye on you.”

Genji nodded, metal fingers sliding over the plates of his throat. “That’s fine.” He said, sounding rather contrary. “But you’ll be wasting your time.” Genji stalked away from Zarya, obviously offended, and Hanzo followed, setting a hand on his shoulder and speaking quietly in Japanese.

“I apologise, Zarya.” Winston said, adjusting his glasses. “We ought to have given you some warning. Genji certainly _looks_ like an omnic now.”

She nodded. “Zat would have been wise.”

Zarya’s voice had cooled; she didn’t laugh as much for the rest of their brief tour, and her eyes kept darting back to glance suspiciously at Genji, who found himself being accosted by several other soldiers as the afternoon wore on. The days were short here, and dinner (a very plain affair) was served early before they would retire to bed. They would be departing under the cover of night and early morning to sneak through the line and take on the omnics that snuck through the thick snowy forest and tested the line.

There was a town nearby, apparently, and the omnics seemed to be attempting to make for it; the Siberians had come up with a few theories, but the one that stuck was that the omnics simply wished to destroy human dwellings. There were rumours that there was something else in the omnium, something big, but they were loath to bomb it.

Junkrat and Roadhog had been the most vehement champions of not bombing the omnium, which had been surprising to everyone involved until Junkrat got up in Major Stoyanova’s face and snarled, “Y’wanna fuck up yer country forever? ‘Cause that’s how y’fuck up yer country forever.”

It was at that point the Siberians were given a comprehensive guide to Outback Australia, and exactly how radioactive, desolate, and dangerous it was. It didn’t take long for the Siberians to rule out bombing the omnium full stop.

Satya drained the last of her tea and set the empty cup on the plain stand beside her bunk; she didn’t like leaving a dirty cup there but she didn’t know where the kitchen facilities were, and didn’t fancy roaming a military compound at night on her own. Sanjay had contacted her earlier, and they had gone over what her role would be; namely, was she permitted to use her hard light before the Russians?

It had been decided that yes, yes she would, for she would need it if she was to be of any use, and besides, the military would be under some form of nondisclosure act anyway. Vishkar intended to contact the Siberians and inform them that her presence there was not to be released to the public, and Satya felt relieved that she was going to be able to make up her mistakes at last – she lay down in her bed, tugging the thick covers up to ward off the chill, and closed her eyes. They had a big day ahead of them tomorrow.

Little did she know just _how_ big.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoooo boi we are finally here in the snow. get ready bc things (big things. very big. think torbjörn big) are happening in the next chapter~ 
> 
> so Satya's been called out by Winston and is having a few Regrets, but she's still determined to keep her distance. she'll uh, change her mind shortly. a little. it all depends on the Rat
> 
> smallish disclaimer - i've never actually seen snow, so if you need more clothing than pants and a jacket?? who knows???? not me?????


	23. Titan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The omnics decide to go big or go home.

Junkrat laughed to himself as he pressed the detonator button in his fist and threw his hands over his ears. An enormous boom rocked the forest floor as the dying beeps of Bastion units echoed like sweet music. Ah, it’d been too long since he’d gotten to blow up some bots – Junkrat was having a _glorious_ time.

The thought made him grin as he ran through the trees, the thick Siberian forest providing lots of little nooks and crannies for those bastards to hide in. From up ahead he could hear McCree’s smooth drawl as he attempted to coax the omnics forward. _Crazy bastard._ Junkrat tilted his head, running his tongue over his teeth as he wondered for a moment if any omnics were taking him up on his challenge.

He ran past a wall of solid ice with omnics embedded inside, which was bewildering until he recalled Mei’s abilities, and wondered where Roadhog had gotten to. He was just about to tune into the conversation on the comm and find out when a blue blur zipped to his side and morphed into Tracer.

“Junkrat!” She chirped. “'Ow’s things? ‘Eard a big boom before.”

Junkrat grinned at her. “Too big for ‘em t’handle.” He agreed.

“‘Ey, ‘ave you seen the big one? It’s comin’ this way.” Tracer looked a little worried, and Junkrat bit his tongue, thinking.

“The big one?”

Tracer nodded. “Torb’s 'oppin’ mad. It’s one of the designs he worked on, but upgraded by the omnium. It’s a titan, and Zarya’s freakin’ ‘cause it’s 'eadin’ towards that town nearby.” She pointed at his bombs then. “Hey! You should get over there – if ya blew its foot off or somethin’ that’d slow it down.”

Junkrat nodded. “I’m on it. Where the hell is it though?”

Tracer held a finger to her lips, and Junkrat listened. Every few seconds, there was a quiet shuddering sort of sound, almost like… footsteps. He turned back to her in alarm.

Tracer nodded. “We can’t see it from here but it’s _enormous_.” She whispered, eyes huge.

Junkrat rubbed his jaw for a moment. “Roight. I’ll go see if I can help blow the titan sky high, an’ y’stay here t’help McCree with these Bastions.”

“Orright.” The pom flashed him a grin. “Good luck!” With that, she dashed away in a blur of blue, and Junkrat went down another corridor, blasting a few Bastions and other grunt omnics out of the way with his frag launcher and blowing up two more rooms with some of his grenades, and then he came out on low ridge, below which he could see a group of omnics pursuing Mercy, who was shooting at them with her dinky little pistol as she scooted backwards.

“OI MATES!” He bellowed over the rocky ridge, giving the omnics scarcely a moment to look up before he lobbed one of his bigger grenades right into the middle of them. There was an explosion of smoke and metal, and Junkrat whooped and cheered at the boom then returned Mercy’s grateful thumbs up as she disappeared into the trees, jumping on the commlink to let everyone know he’d just taken out a good sized mob.

Reinhardt came online then and ordered everyone with serious firepower to head towards the titan. Junkrat grinned to himself as he reloaded his frag launcher and ran through lightly drifting snow. He’d thought the puffy and bulky clothes Mercy had loaded him down with were a pain in the arse, and then once they’d arrived he’d been very thankful for them, because it was colder than a witches left tit. Now, with all the exertion from running around, he was running rather hot, but Mercy had told them all not to remove their layers because it could invite hypothermia, which didn’t sound like fun. He ran down the ridge and onto flat ground again, his peg leg leaving depressions in the light covering of snow, and headed towards Reinhardt’s coordinates. As he drew closer, Junkrat’s ears began to pick up the sounds of explosions, and he grinned over the top of his frag launcher.

He was definitely feeling the _size_ of the titan by now, but the trees were thick and visibility poor, due to the foggy feel of the light snow, so he couldn’t see it yet. Junkrat blasted an omnic that was sneaking around a tree sky high, and then had to duck back behind a tree as more bots fired at him. Abruptly, he realised he could hear Reinhardt bellowing something loudly in challenge, and Junkrat ran his tongue over his teeth as he grinned; the fight was close.

Fishing a mine out of his pack, Junkrat took his chance and leaned around the tree to throw it; he hit the detonator and threw his hands up over his ears at the resulting blast. He hesitated for a moment but as no more blasts impacted on the tree he was pressed up against, he peered around to find his mine had hit its target; the omnics shooting at him were now a pile of smoking scrap. Junkrat laughed gleefully to himself and headed towards the sounds of explosions and those hugely loud footfalls; he rounded a thicket of trees and then his jaw dropped.

He was up on a sort of rise, and the fact that the titan was down in the valley beyond helped account for why he hadn’t seen it yet – he hadn’t been looking high enough to see the silhouette of its massive form against the cloudy sky.

By Christ, Tracer hadn’t been kidding when she’d said it was huge.

The titan omnic was the size of a bloody skyscraper and wielded the most enormous guns mounted on its ‘shoulders’, and Junkrat could only stare in disbelief. _How in the fuck did I miss that?_ He had no idea, and blamed it on the fog, the thick and tall trees, and the shitty snow that drifted down the back of his neck and stuck in his eyes. Junkrat raised his weapons and ran down the incline to join the others, who were hammering away at the legs of the metal beast, trying to bring it down.

There was a real source of urgency about their actions, and a quick glance at the path of the monstrous omnic told him why. Junkrat swore when he realised that the omnics had pushed them much further back than he’d thought – the titan was pretty much on top of the Siberian line, and the lights he could see, the screams he could hear in the distance? That was a town, a town the titan clearly intended to level.

Roight, so it needed to come down.

A grin twisted his lips as he ran forwards, frag launcher raised high.

The titan continued intolerably forwards, spraying the ground with blasts at regular intervals, and Junkrat hit the ground and barrel rolled to avoid fire from the drones zooming around the titan to protect it. Pharah went blasting across the skies over his head, clearly chasing the drones to take them out, and yet more were on her tail.

One perfect rifle crack rang out and a drone exploded, showering the ground in hot metal; Ana was obviously perched somewhere in the trees, for Pharah zoomed back over his head, saluting to someone somewhere in the distance.

Assessing the sheer size of the titan, Junkrat began calculating the blast force of the explosives he had left, and ran to join Reinhardt, who swung his hammer and knocked a Bastion unit into the next century.

“I’m gonna go for the leg.” Junkrat shouted. “Might be able t’set some charges an’ take out the foot!”

“Good plan!” Reinhardt bellowed, raising his shield and thundering towards the omnics in the trees.

Junkrat dove forwards, blasting a drone out of the sky and then gripped his detonator between his teeth and jumped onto the titan’s foot. There was a dizzying sense of motion as the foot raised high into the air as the titan walked forward, but Junkrat ignored it, climbing higher so he could reach the first joint, where the leg of the metal beast seemed thinnest and had the most connections, which meant it would be weakest.

 _Theoretically_.

The drones sensed he was there and all ganged up on him at once, and Junkrat rolled into the joint of the omnic as a shield as they opened fire, a sinking feeling in his stomach as the titan moved into its next step and the motion made him realise he was going to either be shot to shit or crushed in the next two seconds.

He took his chance and bolted out of the joint and prepared to feel drone blasts strike his body but nothing happened; a second later and he realised why – a swathe of bright electric blue shielded him, and the drone’s fire bounced harmlessly away. Peering over the edge, he saw Symmetra keeping pace with the titan, prosthesis and photon projector held aloft and glowing as she shielded him, Reinhardt moving alongside and shielding _her_.

 _Huh_. Guess her newfound dislike of him didn’t extend to missions.

 _“Hurry!”_ She yelled. “I can’t hold it forever!”

Junkrat didn’t bother wasting the time to reply; he threw himself back to the joint of the titan and began setting his most powerful explosives, sticking as many as he could down and rolling grenades into the gaps as well. He grabbed his detonator tightly and jumped; Symmetra’s shield vanished and he swore as he plummeted towards the ground.

Pharah came blasting out of nowhere then with a noise that hurt his ears, and she grabbed his metal wrist, jolting him up out of the freefall enough that when she did drop him he was only winded instead of breaking several bones. Junkrat immediately scrambled to his feet and got on the comms, shouting to get back, and then he ducked behind a tree and pressed the button on his detonator – an almighty _boom_ rocked the valley, and the titan gave off a roar of tortured screeching metal as it teetered, clearly off balance from the force of the blast, and Junkrat whooped ecstatically, certain he’d just wiped out its leg. A pressing matter of business occurred to him then – getting the _hell_ out of the way when the titan came down – and Junkrat scooted around the tree to look.

His jaw dropped, because as the smoke cleared, it was evident that his bombs hadn’t done anything at all. Oh, sure, there was superficial damage; the metal plates of the titan’s joints were warped and scorched, and smoke and sparks poured from where he’d detonated his bombs, but it was still walking.

Outrage prickled over his skin and Junkrat forgot he was in the middle of a warzone and under fire, and he darted forwards to bawl at the titan.

“Oi, the _FUCK!”_ He screamed, hopping up and down on the spot from rage. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE THESE FUCKIN’ TIN CANS MADE FROM-!”

A large hand abruptly closed over his shoulder and yanked him backwards, and Junkrat spluttered intelligibly at Roadhog, who dumped him on the ground at his feet and hooked an omnic in the same instant, crushing its mechanical head to pulp in his meaty fist, and used the bits to reload his scrap gun.

Junkrat shot to his feet, eyes popping. “Hog! Mate! Didja see – it didn’t _work_ – me bombs – what the _fuck?_ Christ, mate – _what-?”_ He was so furious he couldn’t get his words out straight.

“It’s bomb proof.” Roadhog growled, and Junkrat stared – the idea simply didn’t compute.

“Can’t be.” Junkrat patted the grenades hitched beneath his puffy jacket. “Ain’t a thing in this world y’can’t blow t’shit.”

“Omnics figured it out.” Came the answering growl, and Junkrat glared, disgusted. He already hated omnics with a passion, but this one just made it _personal_. He spied Reinhardt jogging after the titan, swatting away drone blasts as Hana came charging in at the side, her MEKA firing blast after blast at the titan, and now that Junkrat was looking at it clearly, he could see it was taking on damage, but at such a slow rate it meant they’d be hard pressed to stop it before they reached the town. Even now they were coming to the outskirts. Junkrat deduced that the thing must have some sort of shield in place – there was no way ordinary metal could have withstood his bombs.

“C’mon, we gotta follow the big guy. Use his shield.” Junkrat waved Roadhog forwards and they both hurried to catch up with Reinhardt, who instantly inquired as to why the bombs hadn’t worked.

Junkrat burned with indignation, but managed to keep himself in check while explaining that the titan was made from some weird shit and therefore was able to withstand his blasts – he’d need the kind of firepower he didn’t have on him to do more damage, which Reinhardt grimly proclaimed to be the worst news he’d heard all afternoon. Junkrat fully agreed.

A sickening crunch issued from up ahead as the titan strode into the edge of town and crushed a building underfoot. Junkrat hoped there hadn’t been anyone inside; hadn’t he heard that Russian sheila Zarya telling Mercy about the evacuation efforts? The titan really opened up then, firing on the town at the same time as it used its massive arms to swat buildings into rubble as though they were made of paper. Russian fighter jets screamed overhead, bombing the titan as it walked and deploying ground strikes against the smaller omnics too. The noise was deafening.

Torbjörn’s voice came over the comms then, sounding royally pissed off. “Can someone get me to the titan?” He shouted. “If I can get inside the maintenance hatch, I can try to shut it down from the inside!”

“Where is your location?” Pharah’s voice echoed in his ear, and Junkrat watched the path of the titan, thinking furiously. He wasn’t packing enough _heat_. “I can fly you there!”

Torbjörn gave his location, and then Junkrat just happened to look up in time from blowing a Bastion unit to smithereens and saw Pharah blasting across the skies, her arms hooked under Torbjörn’s armpits. They disappeared round the right leg of the titan, and then a few moments later Pharah flew clear, several drones in hot pursuit, and Torbjörn crackled online.

“I’m in.” His accent was grim. “It’ll take me a few minutes to get to the top. Can you hold it until then?”

76's voice snapped in Junkrat’s ear then. “We can try. We need a way to slow it down without harming Torbjörn. Anyone got anything?” He growled, all military.

Symmetra came online then, catching his attention. “Slow it down? I have an idea!”

Junkrat spotted bright blue light diving towards the titan as it waded through the town buildings, and he couldn’t help himself; he ran after her. The streets were dilapidated and the buildings were crumbled, yet a fresh wave of smaller omnics appeared and threatened to wipe them off the map. Junkrat launched a series of grenades, destroying the bots on his tail, and then turned to see Symmetra drawing thick cables out of the air. The gleaming hard light ropes anchored firmly into the ground and wrapped around the titan’s legs, and Junkrat realised something – it was slowing down. Symmetra looked like she was dancing, her movements fluid and graceful despite her bulky winter clothes as her every move saw monstrously thick cables wind around the legs of the titan.

“Yeah Symmetra!” Hana cheered over the comms, and 76 started barking orders.

“Cover Symmetra!” He all but yelled. “Keep those drones away-”

The drones had realised Symmetra was the cause of the cables, and Reinhardt and Zarya both dropped in to circle her, shields raised to deflect fire. 76 darted in and fired pulse after pulse, systematically picking off the drones, while Pharah used herself as bait to draw some more off.

Junkrat found his attention occupied by a group of bots that burst from the cover of a side street, and he chucked a mine and blew them to smithereens, then used his frag launcher to pick off the survivors. Having finished that, he scooted around to the back of the group surrounding Symmetra, taking on the omnics that seemed to be coming from around a nearby apartment block. Turning back, he saw the titan groaning in shrieks of tortured metal as it teetered, legs thoroughly entangled in a hard light web. As Junkrat ran closer, he could see the strain on Symmetra’s face as she held it steady, for the titan was still struggling to move, and cables were snapping at an alarming rate; one pinged as it shattered and careened straight towards 76, and if he hadn’t had thrown himself to the ground when he did, Junkrat had no doubt he would have been decapitated.

Abruptly, there came a loud groan and hissing of hydraulics, and then Torbjörn’s excited tone sounded in his ear. The titan shuddered to a stop, keeling over and coming to rest on the turrets mounted on its shoulders, barely a hair’s breadth from impacting on the apartments.

“I have done it! I have shut it down!”

“Well done Torby, my old friend!” Boomed Reinhardt, and 76 picked himself up off the ground.

“Seconded, Torbjörn. Pharah, can you give him a lift back to ground level?”

Pharah’s voice crackled. “Affirmative. Torbjörn, where are you coming out?”

Junkrat tuned out, eyeing the powered down titan with angry glee – he was glad it was offline, but he was still very bitter over the failure of his bombs. Reinhardt, Zarya and 76 jogged away from Symmetra, heading to where they could meet Hana on the other side of the titan, but Symmetra stayed, reaching out to touch one of her hard light cables, a look of awe on her face. Junkrat turned, having spotted a few bots still coming from that little alleyway beside the apartment blocks, and began heading their way, eager to blow them all to shit. The shadow of the titan covered him completely, and Junkrat found that being in between titan and apartment block shielded him from snowfall completely, which he quite liked, and he began to dawdle, not exactly eager to get out from under the titan and go back into the snow. A noise from above drew his attention, and Pharah came blasting off the side of the titan, Torbjörn held in her arms once more.

At that moment, the Russian fighter jets screamed overhead, plainly not having realised the titan was offline, and launched multiple missiles into it; the explosion was immense, sending shrapnel and smoke many hundreds of feet into the air. With no working computer system to stabilise the balance of the omnic, the titan creaked, groaned – and began to topple.

76 realised this at the same time Junkrat did, and waved furiously _. “Everybody out!”_ He bawled over the comms, and most people bolted, and then Junkrat realised with a sinking feeling that he was in between the titan and the apartment blocks, and therefore directly in its path – and so was Symmetra. Junkrat immediately bolted, running as fast as he could towards her so they could get out together, but the top of the titan impacted on the building, shearing off rubble and sending it crashing down. Symmetra come screeching to a halt as rubble fell and blocked off her path, and then she turned, face ashen, to face the falling omnic. Because of the way it was falling, they wouldn’t make it in time. Junkrat didn’t think – he just ran. Even though logically he knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he just left her to be crushed – even though a smaller voice told him that he would _also_ be crushed, so it was a bit of a moot point. The titan sloughed more of the side off the high-rise apartment block as it crumpled and Junkrat swore loudly as he dodged falling debris, and then – he saw her.

“Symmetra!” He yelled, and she looked up from where she was desperately running, trying to find an exit, and equal parts horror and hope flashed across her face when she saw him. Junkrat leaped over crumbled concrete and ducked vast sections of apartment, and then Symmetra nearly crashed right into him. They were effectively pinned down now – the last of the cables were beginning to go, and the titan was going to crush them in very short order.

“Junkrat!” Symmetra screamed his name as she raised her shield and deflected some of the falling rubble and sprinted towards him.

Junkrat looked around almost helplessly, and then – he knew what to do. Still tearing towards her, the massive body of the toppling omnic looming ever closer as the hard light cables snapped, and he fished a concussion mine from his pack and threw it hastily to the ground.

Symmetra all but crashed into him then, and Junkrat didn’t bother wasting the time to explain – he slung his arm around her waist and ignored her surprised sound, and jumped atop the concussion mine. She was just going to say something else when the last cable snapped with an ominous pinging noise – and the titan toppled completely as he detonated the mine in the same instant. They were both launched bodily into the air as the concussion mine exploded beneath them, and Symmetra screamed into his collarbone, her arms locking around his neck, the metal of her arm providing a cool antidote to the otherwise scorching heat of her skin.

It was definitely the wrong time to think of it, but as they flew through the air, Junkrat aiming their bodies by ease of practise and Symmetra hanging on for dear life, he couldn’t help but notice as her soft curves pressed against him, the way her breath was hot against his skin as she panted with fear.

The titan collapsed altogether then with an almighty sound that shook the town and by some miracle of good timing, they sailed up over its arm as it fell and towards the crumbling apartment block – Junkrat aimed at the apartment where the entire wall was missing, and hoped he wouldn’t break anything important on landing. The floor came rushing up to meet them as pieces of shrapnel and debris sliced into his skin and Junkrat took the brunt of the impact on his peg leg, tossing Symmetra clear as he hit the ground with a force that shook the very breath from his lungs.

“Still alive!” Junkrat groaned the words to himself in victory, accompanied by a bone weary chuckle, and then he peeled himself up off the floor to check for broken bones – and broken prosthetics. Nothing seemed to be that damaged, however, and Junkrat allowed himself a celebratory chuckle, and then the building beneath them shuddered, and he realised with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was going to collapse – and soon.

“Aw, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, _shit_.” He scrambled to his feet, staggering a little, and turned to look for Symmetra. “‘Metra?”

Junkrat noticed with a sickening jerk to his stomach that Symmetra was prostrate on the ground, curled around her midsection as blood pooled over her fingers.

“ _Christ_.” He breathed, rushing over and dropping to his knees beside her. The wound seemed to be fairly deep – she had both hands pressed over it and blood was still gushing – and he had nothing to plug it with. _Fuck_. What the hell had she _done?_ She must have hit something, some piece of debris that drove deeply into her abdomen through her coat when he launched them into the air. Junkrat ripped off his jacket, ignoring the bitter freezing sting of the cold air through his underclothes, and quickly wadded it up into a pad to press against her wound, shifting her hands so she could hold it herself.

“Junkrat?” Her voice was weak, and he snapped into action.

“I’m here. Gonna getcha t’Mercy, don’t worry.” Junkrat gingerly scooped her into his arms and turned around as the whole building shuddered again. He ran for the front door, kicking through it and entering the stairwell. They were on a middle floor, and from the way the building was swaying and starting to crumble, Junkrat guessed he had about three seconds to get out before it collapsed.

He got on the comm as he rushed down the stairs as fast as he could, jumping over rubble and dodging more.

“Hog! Where are ya?”

Roadhog’s answering grunt was almost cut off by 76. “Junkrat! What’s your location?”

“We’re in the apartment the titan fell on.” Junkrat shouted, having to resort to sliding awkwardly down the banister over the damaged section of staircase. “We gotta get the hell out before it collapses on our fuckin’ heads!”

 _“We?”_ 76 sounded worried. “Who’s with you?”

“Symmetra! And where the fuck is Mercy? ‘Metra’s hurt real bad-”

Mercy cut in then, and Junkrat estimated they were on the third floor by now, and he was sure the building was gonna go at any moment.

“What’s her injury?” Mercy’s voice was sharp with an undercurrent of worry.

“She’s got a giant fuckin’ hole in her guts!” Junkrat swore viciously when he realised Symmetra’s eyes had rolled back in her head. “Blood everywhere, an’ she’s passed out-” His stomach seemed to drop out of him and roll away when he reached the next set of stairs and realised they’d collapsed completely – he couldn’t get down. _Christ_. If he was sure of one thing in this life, it was that if they weren’t out of this building in the next thirty seconds, Symmetra wouldn’t have to worry about bleeding to death, because they’d have both been crushed.

Panic had well and truly set in, pricking under his skin and sticking to his bones, and in desperation he kicked in the nearest door, aiming for the apartment balcony. “Hog! Second floor, south side-” There was an almighty roar as the apartment crumbled beneath them, and Junkrat no longer had time to wait for Roadhog as the floor gave way beneath his feet, and he managed to get up on the balcony and fling himself over the railing, Symmetra clutched in his arms.

 _This is it, Rat._ _Yer a goner._ Junkrat closed his eyes, curling himself around Symmetra, positive they were both about to die (or at the very least be seriously injured) as they plunged towards the ground in freefall, the roar of the collapsing building at his back. Instead of smashing like eggs on the road like he’d been expecting, however, he hit a meaty pair of arms that took the brunt of impact. The force of their landing knocked them all backwards, and Junkrat lost Symmetra in the confusion, ending up rolling to a stop a metre or two away from Roadhog, and he lifted his head up, ears ringing as Mercy came sprinting through the clouds of choking dust and debris from the collapsed apartment building.

“Shit.” Junkrat choked on the word, lungs burning as he tried to heave air into his battered and aching body, and he half crawled towards Roadhog, who was closest and also picking himself up off the ground. “Roadie, ya good mate? Thank fuck y’were there t’catch us. Thought we was done for.”

Roadhog grunted as he stretched out his arms, obviously sore from taking the brunt of their impact. Then, Junkrat felt a sickening swoop of fear as he remembered Symmetra’s injury.

“Symmetra?” He asked, moving laboriously towards Mercy, who had Symmetra lying on her back as she sliced open the burnt and singed Vishkar uniform she wore. Junkrat inhaled a bitter gasp through his teeth when he saw the vicious hole torn in her abdomen, blood everywhere. His jacket was gone, lost in the fall. Mercy had the wound covered in what felt like half a second flat, performing various medical things with her staff until she turned to yell in 76’s direction over her shoulder, who was heading towards them, his entire body white with plaster dust. Come to think of it, everyone was covered in the stuff.

“She’s going to bleed out, Jack!” Mercy barked, all business. “I need an _immediate_ extraction.”

A moment later and 76 was on his commlink, summoning something, and in what felt like a heartbeat to Junkrat’s explosion-addled mind, a Russian dropship was landing awkwardly in the very small clear space beside where Symmetra lay in a dark puddle of blood.

76 put Junkrat on the dropship with Mercy and Symmetra, but Roadhog stayed behind to continue the fight, then the dropship took off and 76 and Roadhog were off; the titan had been destroyed but there were still smaller omnics breaching the line that needed to be taken care of. Not long after, they were racing through the wintery skies and back to the Siberian base. Junkrat sat silent and rather shell-shocked in the belly of the ship, freezing solid while he watched as Mercy tended to Symmetra as best she could. Once they landed on the small airstrip at the base, several well prepared Siberians rushed on board with a stretcher, and then Symmetra was rapidly borne away.

Junkrat followed at a slower pace. It occurred to him that he was going to get fussed over in a medical way, which he wasn’t overly fond of, and the idea occurred to him to take a small detour and avoid it. However, in his current state of mental and physical exhaustion, the last vestiges of adrenaline having left him, Junkrat didn’t think he had the energy to outrun a gnat, let alone a doctor. So, he followed the crowd into the military hospital, where he was made to park his arse on a chair while a younger nurse went to fetch something to treat his injuries. He’d gotten lucky; his were only superficial. Junkrat was covered with a fair few scrapes, and several patches on his legs were burned, and his borrowed winter pants were ruined (who even knew where his jacket had ended up), but he had nothing on the level of Symmetra’s injury – Mercy looked like she was elbow deep in Symmetra’s guts by now. Now that his own cuts had been treated, Junkrat sat, form tense as he wondered if her wound was very serious. The nurse came back and swaddled him up in a blanket, and slowly his shivering began to subside, but he ignored himself in favour of watching Symmetra.

He had to wonder if maybe he was reacting to her injury the way it would be back in Junkertown. There, serious wounds would be bandaged and stitched to stop the bleeding, and then you hoped for the best. If infection set in, you were buggered. But here… Mercy was a top-notch doctor, and the Siberian’s equipment was probably better than the shit they had in Junkertown. Still, the dread remained low in the pit of his stomach as he watched Mercy and the Siberian doctors stitching her up while Symmetra lay prone on the operating table, an oxygen mask over her face.

 _Wait_. Junkrat scrubbed a hand over his face. “Christ Almighty.” He muttered, scowling. He wasn’t supposed to like the woman anymore. After what they’d said to each other? He was pretty sure that the only reason she’d spoken to him all while the titan was falling was fear of death, and he’d made an agreement with himself to forget her. He’d even thought it was working, a little. Now she was hurt, however, all he could worry about was whether or not she’d be alright. This was so _stupid_. Junkrat was so utterly over everything, he was of half a mind to piss off back to Hog and blow up a few more bots to take his mind off things. The only thing that stopped him was a bone deep exhaustion, so he sat there and watched as they stitched Symmetra up.

Finally, Mercy was done, and after making sure Symmetra was stable and comfortable, she came out to corner him.

Junkrat didn’t pay her much attention at first, as he was still busy looking through the window at Symmetra.

“She gonna live?” He asked slowly, and Mercy gave him a puzzled look.

“Of course. Once I had access to proper medical equipment, she’d have been fine.”

“Oh.” Junkrat blinked and scratched his ear. “Guess I’m thinkin’ of Junkertown still. If that happened to ya out there, yer fucked. Most blokes would put a bullet ‘tween the eyes so they don’t die slow.”

Mercy’s eyes widened. “That’s _terrible_.” She murmured. “It makes me want to go to Australia and offer medical assistance.”

Junkrat snorted out a laugh as he tugged his blanket closer. “Wouldn’t work. Too stubborn.” He said, amusement lacing his tone.

Mercy frowned. “I’m afraid you Australians have some rather strange ideals.”

“Oi.”

Mercy spent a little while checking him over (quite unnecessarily, he thought, because that Russian nurse had already been over him with a fine tooth comb, and at this point he felt like he had more band-aids than skin), and when his check-up was over, Junkrat stood up. He couldn’t help but glance into the small operating theatre that had been hastily set up, his eyes skimming over Symmetra’s form as she lay prone on the table, all manner of machines strapped to her, a Siberian nurse standing there writing something on a chart.

“Yer sure she’s gonna be all roight?” Junkrat asked uneasily. “I dunno how y’do it – if this was home she’d have bled out and we wouldn’t have even bothered tryin’ t’save her.”

Mercy gave him a sympathetic look. “Symmetra will be fine.” She moved to open the door then. “Follow me.”

Junkrat cautiously clunked into the operating room wearing his blanket like a cloak, and he followed Mercy until they stood beside Symmetra’s bed. Mercy motioned at the machines surrounding them.

“Do you know what these are?”

Junkrat shook his head. “Nope.”

“Well.” Mercy laid her hand on the top of a monitor that was displaying some sort of jagged line that moved in a steady beat. “This is a life monitor. This line is Symmetra’s heartbeat. So long as Symmetra is alive, this machine will record it. If, for whatever unlikely reason her heart stops working, the monitor will alert us so we can attempt to restart her heart.”

He stared at her. “Y’can actually do that? Just restart someone’s heart?”

“Certainly we can. We have a very high success rate now.” Her expression turned sympathetic. “Though I imagine it was different in the Outback.”

Junkrat nodded, looking at the ground. “Yeah. There was some stuff like that in the old hospital, I remember it.” He pointed at the various monitors scattered around Symmetra’s bed. “But there ain’t anyone t’use ‘em, so we used ‘em for parts.”

Mercy raised a brow. “That wouldn’t have been especially helpful.”

“Nope.” He agreed.

Mercy looked thoughtful then as she frowned at his head. Junkrat was just about to ask her what the bloody hell she was looking at when she spun on her heel and motioned for him to follow.

Now back in the little waiting area, Mercy made him sit, and then to his bewilderment, she started looking at his hair.

Uh… Merc?”

“Yes?”

“The hell are y’doing?”

Humour touched her tone then. “Your hair is growing back. Just a little, but it’s becoming noticeable.”

Junkrat snickered. “Oh, yeah. Guess it is.”

“That’s very good, you know. Do you know what your symptoms indicated?”

 _Ah_. Junkrat knew where this was going. “Radiation sickness.”

“Exactly. You have definitely been feeling the effects of it.” Mercy paused and looked at him. “Dizziness?”

“Yeah.”

“Headaches?”

“Yeah.”

“Nausea?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm, and with hair loss too.” Mercy stepped back and eyed him critically. Then, cautiously, “Radiation poisoning is often fatal…”

“I know that.” Junkrat muttered. “Know plenty of blokes who’ve carked it.”

“Do you paint your nails to hide the effects?”

Junkrat looked at the chipped and worn black polish that concealed the discolouration beneath. It was probably time for another coat. “Yeah.”

“How long has it been since you left Australia?”

Mercy was now shining a light in his eyes and checking in his ears, and Junkrat squirmed uncomfortably, unused to this sort of medical scrutiny.

“Nearly three years. Why?”

“Hair loss is indicative of fairly severe poisoning.” She murmured. “By all rights, it _should_ be fatal.”

Junkrat drummed his fingers on his thighs, a snicker bubbling up in his throat. “Y’ever heard of Voxiformin Perinitol?”

Mercy paused, and then she pulled out her phone and searched for it. “It prevents radiation poisoning.” She read, and then turned to look at him.

“Well, t’a certain extent.” Junkrat mused. “Y’can take as much as y’like an’ go fuck around in the really bad places, but ya’d still die.”

“I see. And you took this drug?”

“Everyone does.”

She looked a little exasperated. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me this earlier? That’s something that I should have known. It has to go on your record.”

Junkrat paused and then shrugged slightly. “Dunno.”

She shook her head again. “Tell me more about this Voxiformin.”

Junkrat rubbed at his jaw. “Eh, what’s t’tell? More precious than gold. Up there with clean water. Flog it from the city slickers. More than one bloke’s had his throat cut for his Voxi.”

Mercy grimaced slightly, then recovered herself. “So this drug prevented your sickness from killing you, though you still displayed some of the symptoms?”

“Yep.” Junkrat stretched out slightly in his chair, bobbing his leg in time to an imaginary beat. “But that’s ‘cause I fucked around in the bad places.”

Mercy looked up in alarm. _“What?”_

Junkrat held up a hand in a guilty gesture. “Took proper precautions for that one. ‘Member I said I was fuckin’ round in the Omnium? That’s a real bad place. Got all suited up for that one, mask an’ everythin’. Tripled up on me Voxi dose an’ went in.” He reflected for a moment. “That’s when me hair really started falling out.”

Mercy shook her head as she scribbled something down on a pad she pulled from her pocket. “Goodness me.”

“Met Roadie and got out of Australia not long after that.” Junkrat purposely avoided exactly _why_ they’d left. “Course, we had t’decontaminate then. Stop the sickness if we could.”

“Decontaminate? What did that entail for you two?”

Junkrat scratched his chin. “Well, had me first real shower in fifteen years.” Mercy looked astonished at this, which was stupid. Didn’t she _know_ what the Outback was like? “An’ we stole new clothes and stuff an’ burned all our old ones. Hog scrubbed his bike within an inch of its life.”

“I see. And then?”

Junkrat made air quotes. “Reckon ya’ve heard ‘bout our ‘crime spree’. Just kinda fucked about flogging shit for a while. Was fun. Took Voxi the whole time too, just t’make sure.” He grinned at her even as she frowned at the notes she was writing. Junkrat very abruptly realised he’d probably told her more than he should have. Mercy had a very warm and motherly way about her, and it wasn’t hard to open up to her without realising that you had. “We done?”

“Yes, I think so.” Mercy stood up, then paused. “Do you still take Voxiformin?”

Junkrat nodded. “Yeah. Me an’ Hog both take stuff, an’ Hog’s got his other stuff too. Not game t’stop.”

Mercy nodded understandingly. “If you would like, I could run some tests on both of you to see if it would be safe for you to stop, or arrange a different treatment once we get back to Gibraltar.” She offered. “I’m sure our medical advancements have something better than a daily medication.”

“Y’reckon so?” Junkrat considered it – it sounded like a bizarre dream to not have to take Voxi every single day.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“Well… all roight.”

Mercy smiled at him. “Wonderful. I’ll do some research and get back to you shortly. And Junkrat? You look exhausted, and you’re turning blue. Get some rest and warm up a bit.”

“Roight.” Junkrat said his goodbyes and scarpered, taking in one last look at Symmetra lying motionless on her bed as Mercy headed in to check on her, and then he made a beeline back to the barracks, where he collapsed on his bunk. Mercy was right – was exhausted, every scrap of adrenaline he possessed having been used up in the desperate scramble to escape the falling building. Now he was safe, Junkrat gave in to his exhaustion and let his eyelids droop. He was fine – and so was Symmetra. Pure and utter relief swamped his frame, and he forgot that they’d argued. Junkrat trembled – from exhaustion or exhalation, he wasn’t sure, but Symmetra was going to be _fine_.

He was asleep before he knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> toldja there were big things happening~ 
> 
> and now all thats left to do is wait for Satya to wake up! and talk to Junkrat, of course XD


	24. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya wakes up

Satya was in a very good mood.

Of course, if you asked about the bandages wrapped around her torso the answer would change – she was in pain when she moved and her muscles were very stiff and sore, but the news she’d just received outstripped anything physical that she felt. She’d woken up earlier that morning, and had been very confused as to her whereabouts – she appeared to be in a hospital of some sort, with unfamiliar faces all around. On seeing that she was awake, one nurse vanished for a bit and came back with Mercy, and as Mercy checked her over and chatted quietly, the events of the previous day came back to her.

She was informed that she’d suffered a concussion at some point, though that had been taken care of with Mercy’s skills, and had a painful contusion across her cheek. That was in addition to the cuts and burns she had across most of her body (her clothes were ruined), and her serious abdominal wound. Satya had needed a lot of stitches, and she’d also required a blood transfusion (Mercy had told her how lucky she was that the Siberians had some blood on hand, and that she had matched with one of their available types), but she was otherwise informed she was going to be all right.

She didn’t remember the exact point of her injury – instead, it was like remembering scenes from a movie watched too long ago – she had a vague idea of events, complete with flashes of remembrance. She remembered Junkrat yanking her into his arms and blasting them into the sky with his concussion mine as the titan fell, but she didn’t remember landing in the apartment blocks (she’d had to be informed of how Junkrat carried her the whole way down, and apparently at that point she’d already been injured). She had a vague recollection of being cradled in someone’s arms, the warmth of their body comforting but their proximity alarming. Satya recalled feeling dampness on her hands – she surmised that must have been her own blood, and that someone had to have been Junkrat.

Satya also recalled the feeling of freefall, and then a sudden stop followed by an immense flare of pain that had made her pass out altogether, for she didn’t remember anything else after that. It had been very disturbing to discover that Junkrat had almost gotten them out of the building, only to find that the stairs had caved in, trapping them on the second floor, and then _incredibly_ disconcerting to find that the sensation of falling she remembered had been because Junkrat had flung them both off the balcony as the apartment block collapsed beneath them. Roadhog had caught them, which explained why they weren’t dead from the impact, and then she’d been taken back to the Siberian military base for immediate treatment.

It was… conflicting, to say the least.

She had been under the impression that he hated her now, or something along those lines. They hadn’t spoken since they’d argued, and from his words, she’d assumed that he wouldn’t lift a finger to help her.

But… he’d saved her life.

There was no other way around it. She would be dead if he hadn’t carried her out of that building, and she couldn’t work out _why_ he’d done it. There was one thing Satya did know, however, and that was… that she felt _guilty_. She’d written him off like an immoral lunatic, when he’d just proven himself to be more trustworthy than some of her Vishkar colleagues. She couldn’t really name any of her fellow architechs who would risk life or limb for her – not even Sanjay, whereas she was quite sure that any of the Overwatch members would. What that said about Vishkar, she wasn’t sure, but there was something she was sure of – she needed to apologise to Junkrat. Apologise, and thank him for saving her life.

Satya was determined to find both Junkrat and Roadhog and thank them at some point, but as she wasn’t yet allowed out of bed, she’d asked one of the nurses to track down Junkrat and bring him over. She wasn’t sure if he’d come, but she supposed she’d find out.

A slow smile spread across her face; she was happy to be alive, that was certainly true, but the message she’d just received from Vishkar was the icing on the cake.

Sanjay had called her a few minutes before, and she’d still been a little groggy from sleep and medication, but what he had to say had woken her up in a hurry. Apparently, while she’d been asleep, (and after everyone else had gotten back to the base) Winston had contacted Vishkar to let them know of her injury. She’d been sure she’d be reprimanded for so foolishly letting herself be injured, but the opposite happened – she and Torbjörn were the saviours of the hour, and Winston had informed Vishkar of this.

Major Stoyanova had seen the transmission and had come over to offer accolades of her own, and had by all accounts rather enthusiastically praised what she called Satya’s ingenious idea of the hard light cables, and had informed a very pleased Sanjay that if Satya was one of her own, she would be commended for her efforts. She and Torbjörn had certainly prevented the destruction of the rest of the town, and seeing as it boasted a sizable population and a fair bit of infrastructure, Vishkar was very pleased to hear of her role there.

Sanjay had relayed the major’s praises together with Winston’s to their superiors, and Satya was ecstatic to hear that they were pleased with what she’d done – it had been made to sound like she had singlehandedly stopped the titan on her own (Torbjörn’s involvement was being downplayed a little by Sanjay, from the sounds of things), and her superiors were very excitedly considering the use of hard light in combat should the omnic resurgence in Eastern Europe spread further and embroil the world in a second Omnic Crisis.

Thanks to her fearless actions, (Sanjay’s words) her superiors had debated the issue, and they had decided that some sort of reward was in order for her peerless conduct. What had been settled on was the wiping of her demerits, and she revelled in the knowledge of her once more spotless record. Yes, Satya was in a _fantastic_ mood. Sanjay was also ecstatic, for it had been on his recommendation that she keep her position, and she’d gone and proven him right, and he was also receiving praise from their superiors for his previously doubted stance. She was back in Vishkar’s good books, and she couldn’t be happier. Sanjay had even rambled for a while, telling her it was proof that pulling back and behaving purely in a professional manner would grant her similar wins. Satya… wasn’t so sure anymore, because of Winston. She’d done a lot of thinking in the space between their arrival in Siberia and her stint in her hospital bed, and Winston had nearly stopped her from coming because of Sanjay’s orders, so… maybe Sanjay wasn’t _quite_ so right after all. She didn’t tell _him_ that, though.

At that moment, Satya caught sight of a shock of soot-filled blond hair lurking in her doorway. Junkrat peered into her room, looking very unsure of himself, and Satya’s lips curled into a smile without her realising it. The nurse must have found him. Now she could apologise for how she’d treated him. She’d been replaying Winston’s words over and over to herself since leaving Gibraltar, and the more she thought about it, the more she was sure her actions had been wrong. Well, not completely wrong. She was still determined to keep her professional boundaries clear, but she now knew she’d been _too_ harsh. It hadn’t been fair to treat Junkrat – or any of them – like that, so now she wanted to see if she could make amends.

“Junkrat! Come in.”

He blinked, looking surprised, and scratched at his cheek. Satya remembered her cold distantness from earlier and felt a twinge of regret; of course her sudden change of attitude would be confusing to him. Still, she had to thank him.

“Uh, g’day, ‘Metra. How y’feelin’?”

“Sore, but I’ll be fine.” She replied, and patted the bed at her side. “Come here?”

Junkrat slunk over to her, still soot covered, his clothes shredded. His expression was absolutely bewildered, and he sank into the chair by her hospital bed, looking more lost than ever.

Satya sat up slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at her stitches. “I must thank you, Junkrat.” She said seriously. “You saved my life.”

Junkrat grinned weakly, still looking confused. “Ah, y’don’t need t’thank me. Y’still got hurt.”

Satya laid a hand on her waist, over the bandages. “There’s an important distinction between ‘hurt’ and ‘dead’, and I have _you_ to thank for not being the latter.”

His grin was stronger then, his tongue curling around a golden tooth. “Well, couldn’t leave ya behind-” He stopped very suddenly and looked out the window beside her bed, and Satya’s breath caught.

He was so _determined_ , risking his own life to save her, even after she’d so cruelly cut everyone off. Guilt pooled in her belly and Satya bit her lip.

“I – thank you.” She said, then cleared her throat. “I must say, your actions were incredibly selfless. I don’t deserve it.”

Junkrat’s head snapped back towards her so fast his neck cricked, and he worked the twinge out with his metal hand while staring wordlessly, confusion written on his features.

 _“Don’t deserve it?”_ His voice was low and rather hoarse when he did speak. “How d’ya-” He cleared his throat. “How d’ya figure that?”

Satya lifted a hand and then let it fall back to her bed. “Well… we did have something of a fight.” She said the words softly, and Junkrat’s jaw tightened. “I have behaved abominably towards all of you. I wouldn’t have expected you to-”

“Think I’d leave ya t’die ‘cause of a few hard words.” Junkrat’s laugh was bitter. “Good opinion ya got of me.”

Satya frowned at the realisation – did he… not want her to think badly of him? “Oh no, I don’t think that. I just… I was surprised.”

“Huh.” Junkrat watched her closely. “So… why’d ya send the nurse t’fetch me?”

Satya looked up and met his gaze. “So I can both thank you, and… apologise.”

The answer seemed to irritate him. “Yer the one in a hospital bed-”

“Entirely by chance.” She interjected. “Yet _you_ made the conscious decision to save my life.” Satya took a deep breath. “If anything, it shows that out of the two of us, lately _you_ have proved yourself to be the better person.”

 Junkrat stared for a moment. “Y’ve lost yer mind. Yer the perfect law-abidin’ suit. _I’m_ the criminal.”

Satya shrugged one shoulder lightly, and instantly regretted it as her stitches twinged. “And isn’t there a saying about honour amongst thieves? Whereas I have proven myself to be exactly the cold and unfeeling corporate body you tease me about.” Her voice was rather morose, and she knew Junkrat was staring.

“Well, yeah-” He started, then reconsidered. “But yer not like that usually.” Junkrat looked – rather _determined,_ as if he were trying to convince her. He tried out a grin, but it quickly faltered, turning into something of a grimace before fading all together into an expression of earnestness that she didn’t quite know how to interpret. “I _know_ y’ain’t. Fuckin’… forget what I said. Y’know. Before. I was just pissed off. Didn’t mean it. ‘Sides, Vishkar makes ya do it.” He muttered an insult directed at her company under his breath.

Satya watched him for a long moment – he had such an inexplicably good opinion of her it made her feel horribly guilty. “Thank you.” She said finally. “That means a great deal to me.”

He looked pleased, but then his expression turned sour. “Why’d y’let them do it?” He asked, and Satya bit her lip.

“I know it must seem strange to you.” The words began to pour out of her – this was her chance to explain herself, their first real conversation since she’d cut off contact with him. “You have always been in charge of your own self. But corporations don’t work like that. If you wish to get to the top, you must follow orders.”

Junkrat looked unimpressed, brow raised and jaw set. “An’ yer that ambitious y’let them dictate who ya even talk to.”

Satya cringed. “It sounds awful when you put it like that. But Vishkar is very… ruthless. It’s very hard to move up the corporate ladder, and there are always people waiting to take your place. One misstep and everything you’ve worked for is gone. I’ve worked very hard to get to where I am, and the thought of losing it all in one fell swoop terrifies me. I’ve been working to become an architech of my calibre since I was thirteen. Vishkar is the only thing I know. I cannot lose it.”

Junkrat nodded. “Fair enough.” He still didn’t sound convinced, so Satya decided to take a chance, butterflies swooping madly in her stomach.

“I know what I said – before. About ensuring that I follow a very rigid code of professional conduct.” Satya looked down at her hands; she still had dried blood encrusted in the joints of her prosthesis, and she grimaced at it. Once Junkrat had left she would be requesting warm water and disinfectant. “But after Winston pointed some things out to me, and with what you said… I realise now that I have been very unfair.” She took a deep breath and pushed her hair over her shoulder. Now it was crunch time. “Overwatch is a cohesive unit, and he reminded me that I can’t truly be a part of that unless I am a trusted member. If I pull back, I can’t be trusted. If I’m not trusted, I can’t complete my mission objectives to my full potential. He’s right, of course – I let my worry over my position within Vishkar get the better of me. My primary objectives given by Vishkar still stand, and I’m making a conscious decision to ignore this secondary directive due to conflict of interest.” She offered the words with a slight smile, just a mere curve of her lips. “I intend to try and repair relations with everyone; will you be the first to accept my apology?”

Junkrat stared for another long moment, but then his mouth quirked up into a slight grin, a flash of gold barely visible. “Wasn’t expectin’ that.” He said simply, and Satya took the time to assess herself.

“Something Winston said has stuck with me. He said ‘what Vishkar doesn’t know won’t hurt them’. He’s right, you know – my talking to the other people on my team can’t have any negative impact.” Satya paused and reconsidered. “Though I must be clear; my professional conduct _must_ come before anything social. That is just how it is.” She sighed slightly. “But if I continue like I was… if anything, more harm will come if I continue to be silent.” Satya took a deep breath. “In fact, if I am going to truly commit to repairing relations, then I may perhaps, in time, earn a _certain_ teammate’s trust again.”

A slow grin appeared on Junkrat’s face. “Y’might do, yeah.”

Satya feigned ignorance, rather enjoying his expression. “But you see, I don’t know if he would be willing to trust me again. He might think that I am too indecisive.” She paired this with a very significant look.

Junkrat’s grin was getting bigger. “He might do, yeah, but he might be more pleased that y’ain’t letting Vishkar stick its nose where it ain’t wanted no more.”

Satya couldn’t help her own smile at that. “That too. But I don’t know if he would forgive me for the things I said.”

Junkrat lost his smile, fixing her with an appraising look. “What about the things _he_ said?”

Satya tilted her head. “Does he still think me a coward?”

Junkrat giggled nervously and scratched at his cheek, and then a flash of anger appeared in his eyes. “Depends. Do ya still take _pity_ on him?”

Satya closed her eyes briefly. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She picked at a small hole in her blanket. “But the truth is, you hurt me, and I wanted to hurt you in return. I just… came up with the best sort of insult I could.”

Junkrat nodded. “Huh. But… do y’pity me?” His voice was very quiet, and Satya regarded him for a moment, taking in his expression. He wore no grin, and his face was set in serious lines beneath the soot. She knew why; he was very proud – both Junkers were. To find that she helped him only out of pity would be a blow to his psyche.

“No.” Satya reconsidered. “Well, when I first met you, yes, a little. But it was more your circumstances than you.”

Junkrat grinned at her then, his gold tooth shining. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Satya offered him a small smile of her own. “So. The material question; does this certain teammate of mine forgive me?”

Do y’want him t’forgive ya?” His voice was quieter, deeper, and there was a sort of heat in his eyes that made her feel a bit quivery, though Satya couldn’t for the life of her come up with any explanation why.

She nodded very slowly. “Yes, I do.”

Junkrat’s hand went to his jaw, cracking it gently as he contemplated her. “Then… I reckon he would.” He said slowly, and Satya felt rather warm. Junkrat leaned back then, an easy grin moving over his face, and she blinked, whatever peculiar spell that was having been broken. “‘Sides, if he didn’t, all ya gotta do is bribe him with cake or somethin’.”

Satya’s lips turned up. “Indeed? I’ll keep that in mind. But Junkrat…” Very hesitantly, Satya held out her hand. “Will you accept my apology?” She asked again. Junkrat took a moment, but he grinned widely and shook her hand, but when he tried to pull back, she seized his metal hand in both of hers.

“I’m very glad you came. Thank you, truly.” She said earnestly. “It’s thanks to you that I’m still alive.”

The tips of Junkrat’s ears were stained a delicate pink beneath the soot, and he swallowed hard. Satya dropped his hand and he pulled it into his lap like he’d been burned, fist clenched.

“Yeah, uh, no worries.” He stammered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“But I really didn’t think you would. So why did you?” She asked, and Junkrat’s expression turned a little sheepish.

“Makin’ sure yer still breathin’.” There was a hint of amusement in his tone as he leaned back in his chair. “S’ like I told Merc – if this was the Outback, y’wouldn’t be here roight now.” A contemplative expression crossed his face as he tapped one of the machines by her bed. “Funny things, these are. Wish we’d had some back home. Might have saved a few blokes.”

Satya shifted again, and this time she made an audible noise of pain as her stitches twinged. Junkrat’s gaze flew towards her, and she shook her head.

“Remind me not to move much. It hurts my stitches.” She complained, gingerly laying a hand on her bandages.

Junkrat grinned. “I know that feelin’.”

Satya raised a brow. “Oh? Just what kind of injuries have _you_ suffered?”

His grin widened as he hiked up his clothing, revealing the bare skin of his torso. Just under the ribs on his right side, she could see a deep and ugly scar, running crookedly beneath the bone. Junkrat tapped it lightly and dropped his clothes. “Got that when I lost me arm.” His tone was perfectly conversational, as if losing an arm were normal. “Stitched it up m’self and had a bugger of a time keepin’ it clean.”

Satya’s brow raised higher. “I don’t doubt that.” She said wryly, and Junkrat snickered.

“So, uh… readin’ lessons?” He asked hesitantly, with a good deal of hope written on his features, and Satya looked down.

“I can’t.” She said quietly. “I must remain in Vishkar’s good graces… and I’ve been told to stay away from you and Roadhog in particular.”

Junkrat’s mouth snapped shut and he gave her a very odd look. _“Why?”_

Something wry but no less regretful tugged at her lips. “Do the words ‘international bounty’ and ‘world-wide crime spree’ mean anything to you?”

Junkrat giggled. “I ‘spose that’s a fair enough reason.” He said, with an undercurrent of moroseness. “Just shits me off, ‘cause I was so close to learnin’ properly…”

That tugged at her heartstrings. “You have advanced to the point where you could read by yourself-” She tried, but Junkrat shook his head.

“Tried it. Doesn’t work too well when I get t’a word I dunno. Don’t have no one t’ask.”

Satya looked down, unable to look him in the eye. “I can’t.” She said quietly, and Junkrat was just opening his mouth to say something else when the door opened and Mercy came in, wielding a clipboard.

She stopped dead when she took in the occupant of Satya’s bedside chair.

“Junkrat!” Mercy’s tone was all surprise, and Satya frowned slightly, feeling, inexplicably, like a naughty child who’d just been found out. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, just checkin’.” Junkrat’s tone was airy as he waved a hand at the machines by her bed. “Can’t trust machines, y’know.”

Mercy looked amused as she moved forwards. “You can trust _these_ ones, Junkrat.”

“Ah, y’never know, do ya?” Junkrat grinned at both of them, suddenly fidgety and seemingly anxious to leave. “Might catch ya later, eh ‘Metra?” With that, he pushed himself out of his chair. “See ya, Merc.”

With that he’d clanked out of the room with his uneven gait and headed off outside, and Mercy turned to face her with raised brows.

“What was he doing here?”

Satya fought to maintain her neutral expression and decided not to tell Mercy that she’d sought him out, not the other way around. “Just what he said. Checking to see whether or not I had lasted the night. He doesn’t seem to have a very high opinion of modern medicine.” She shrugged lightly then winced as the movement hurt her stitches. “I’m glad that he did stop by. It gave me a chance to thank him for saving my life.”

Mercy nodded and started writing something on her clipboard. “He was very brave.” She said. “I didn’t see him jump, but Jack did. He said there was no hesitation, just straight over the edge.”

Satya nodded. “I’m actually glad I was unconscious by then. It couldn’t have been very enjoyable.”

“Certainly not.” Mercy moved closer, frowning at a reading from a machine. “How are your pain levels?” She asked, and Satya tilted her head.

“It only really hurts when I move.” She replied, and Mercy nodded.

“As expected. You’ll be confined to bed for a few days, I’m afraid, while the rest of us defend the line.”

“I can’t believe I got put out of action so soon.” Satya sighed regretfully.

Mercy tutted sharply. “I’ll have none of that, thank you.” She sat in the seat so recently vacated by Junkrat and looked sternly at her. “The omnium appears to have put most of what they had into the titan, and you were instrumental in bringing it down. You ought to be proud of what you achieved.”

“I am pleased with my work.” Satya rubbed at her shoulder, where a bruise throbbed. “And Vishkar is too, which means I am no longer under review.”

Mercy paused. “Is that a good thing?”

Satya nodded. “Very.” She paused herself then. “Mercy… I hope you hold no hard feelings for the way I have treated you and everyone else since Austria… I have been under a lot of stress, and Vishkar-”

Mercy nodded. “I know. Winston explained Vishkar’s position to us all when you weren’t there. Everyone thinks they were far too harsh, but it is your choice.” She paused and very delicately continued. “But no one would complain if you came back.”

Satya blinked; that was news to her. “Well, I’ve done a lot of thinking, and… as I’m no longer in such a precarious position with regards to my place, it is possible for me to repair relations with everyone – if I can.”

Mercy smiled a very genuine smile. “I’m very glad.”

Satya smiled, feeling relieved. “Thank you.” She said earnestly. “You’re all much kinder than I deserve, really.” She furrowed her brow. “Very different to Vishkar.”

Mercy smiled. “We consider ourselves a family.” She turned to fiddle with a machine on their right, and consequently didn’t see how much the words struck Satya. “And while you’re here, you’re a part of that family.”

Satya’s mouth opened and closed for a moment. “I – thank you.” She said automatically. _Why_ were they so different to Vishkar? Sanjay said constantly that Vishkar was her family, and yet, with one sentence, Mercy made what Overwatch had sound so much… warmer.

“We’ll keep you here until we head back to Gibraltar, I think.” Mercy mused, flicking through the pages on her clipboard. “I don’t think it wise to let you back into combat; you might rupture your stitches. The equipment here is all well and good, but it isn’t like mine – I could have had you fixed up and ready to go back out into the field in a day or two if we were at Gibraltar. Oh well. As it stands, you’re confined to bed.”

Satya nodded in resignation. “Very well.”

Mercy gave her a motherly smile. “Cheer up, Symmetra. You’ve done well.”

Satya smiled in acknowledgement and then Mercy left to prepare for their next run beyond the line, leaving her with a stack of magazines and her tablet to occupy herself with. Satya settled herself back in bed and felt a frown form on her brow. Perhaps she’d been wrong in what she’d told Mercy and Junkrat. While her position was safe and her record clean once more, Vishkar still had their eyes on her. She still couldn’t afford any slip ups. She’d have to be very, very careful.

 

* * *

 

A few days passed and she was growing increasingly impatient. Satya wanted to get out of her hospital bed, but Mercy vetoed it. In the end, what she had allowed was for Satya to be wheeled out of the medical wing in a wheelchair to the dining hall, which doubled as a recreation area for those not on duty. She was surprised to see just how many people came to see her – all of the Overwatch crew showed up at one point or another, and it seemed that she and Torbjörn were fairly popular with the Siberians and the Russians for having ultimately stopped the titan. Zarya along with many of the other soldiers had come over to ask about her recovery and enthusiastically discuss the titan with her, though that was then, and now she found herself alone for the moment.

She hardly minded; though the dining hall was mostly empty as everyone went about their duties – Morrison and Ana had accompanied a small platoon of soldiers out on an excursion along the line, while McCree, Hanzo and some of the others had challenged the Siberians to target practice, which from the sound of it was causing a fair amount of revelry.

It didn’t bother her much, however. Satya was swathed in thick warm blankets, and despite her wound she was comfortable in her wheelchair as she scrolled through some files on her tablet. At that moment, she heard the unmistakable sound of someone with a peg leg stumbling on the cement, and the accompanying footsteps of a large and heavy bodyguard. Satya looked up to see Junkrat stagger in, his posture off kilter far worse than usual, because – she blinked. Was his prosthetic arm… stuck to his face?

Junkrat was clearly trying to talk, mumbling something loud and unintelligible through his apparent mouthful of metal, and Roadhog had his hand on his back, steering him towards the tea station. Satya couldn’t resist.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Junkrat jumped and spun to face her, eyes wide, and Roadhog’s shoulders moved in what she was quite sure was a laugh.

Satya set her tablet on her lap and wheeled her chair a fraction closer. “What have you – are you _stuck?”_

Junkrat’s shoulders sank and he made a garbled sound that was possibly ‘I might be’, but she wasn’t entirely sure.

Satya raised a brow in question and Roadhog chuckled deeply through his mask, grabbing Junkrat’s shoulder and steering him over. Now that he was closer, Satya could see that the issue stemmed from the fact that Junkrat had apparently licked his metal arm and his tongue had frozen to it.

“What on earth possessed you to do such a thing?” She could barely keep the amusement from her voice. “Don’t you know that your tongue will stick to cold metal?”

Junkrat made a noise that was entirely pitiful.

Satya turned in the direction of the tea station. “I presume you were about to tip water over his head? Don’t let me stop you.”

Junkrat’s noises were decidedly alarmed now, and he attempted to rip his arm away, recoiling with a noise of pain.

“Don’t do that. Your tongue will come away but you’ll leave some behind, you know.”

His expression turned utterly horrified and he turned to Roadhog with a muffled noise of pleading, to which the big man made a grunt that sounded like ‘it’d serve ya right’, which Satya wasn’t entirely sure she disagreed with.

“C’mon.” Roadhog grunted, seizing Junkrat by the back of his puffy snow jacket (she noted that as the days passed, Junkrat had been acquiring more and more snow gear to combat the cold), and dragged him back towards the tea station. Satya tugged her blankets a little closer around her, watching with barely quashed delight as Roadhog ignored all Junkrat’s noise and poured scalding hot water out of the tea urn, to which Junkrat’s protests became much louder.

To the evident relief of the smaller Junker, Roadhog then mixed the boiling water with some cold to even the temperature out, and then he turned without preamble, grabbed Junkrat by the hair and tilted him sideways, and poured the cup on his face. Satya couldn’t help herself; she grinned at the sight, for Junkrat was spluttering and flailing and generally making a nuisance of himself.

She wondered if Junkrat had even realised his arm had detached from his tongue, so busy was he with attempting to squirm out from Roadhog’s grip and wipe his face free of water; you’d have thought it was acid from the way he carried on. Roadhog dropped him unceremoniously and then held out a tea towel; Junkrat grabbed it and rubbed his face vigorously, still spluttering.

 A laugh escaped her; a mere slight chuckle that faded rapidly but nonetheless caught Junkrat’s attention. He peered over the top of the tea towel, eyes wide and owlish, and then resumed scrubbing his face. She noted that not only had most of the soot come clean, revealing not only his freckles but pink cheeks; she could only assume it was from the scrubbing.

“Oi. Y’laughin’ at me?”

Satya took a moment to compose herself. “How could I not?” She laid her chin in her palm. “Are you going to tell me how, precisely, you got stuck?”

Junkrat was a comical mix of sheepish and amused as he loped closer, still dabbing at his neck with the tea towel. A giggle welled up in his throat and he grinned, golden teeth flashing.

“Catchin’ snowflakes with Hana.”

“Ah.” Well, that explained it. He must have ended up with a flake on his prosthetic and absently licked it.

“So, uh, how’re y’feelin’?”

Satya frowned slightly, thinking of her wound. “Sore. But I am enjoying myself here.”

Junkrat nodded, tongue sliding over his teeth as he wore an expression that looked considering, as though he was very carefully planning his next words. The silence dragged on too long and became awkward, and Satya looked down at her tablet, scrolling through it for something to do.

 There came an annoyed grunt, and then Roadhog led the way out of the dining hall, one large hand on Junkrat’s shoulder to direct him. Satya watched them go with something of a slight frown on her face; Junkrat could be really rather _confusing_ in his behaviour at times. Boisterously friendly and energetic one moment, lost and contemplative the next. As Roadhog steered him out the door, she heard Hana call out, and then came the distinct sound of snow impacting on a body, followed by a loud _‘Oof!”_

A snowball fight? Exactly the kind of thing she could see Hana dragging everyone around her into. Over the loud laughter and exclamations of shock, she heard Junkrat swear.

“ _Christ_ , it’s fuckin’ freezin’! Anyone got mittens? I’d kill fer some mittens.”

Satya shook her head and resolved to put him out of her mind for the moment, turning back to her tablet. Ugh. That had been almost a proper conversation. Why couldn't set get her boundaries straight? What Satya knew for certain was that she had things to contemplate, lots of things. Winston’s words, Sanjay’s words. Both needed to be precisely compared and her course of action most carefully decided. Of course, it was not a decision that could be made lightly, nor had she any idea of which direction she was leaning, but still. She had time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so basically Satya is now a confused mess. She's got Winston's words and Sanjay's orders bouncing around in her brain and she doesn't know who she should listen too yet. she's figured out she was way harsh before, so at least there's that, i guess.
> 
> there is good news! with her demerits wiped and now she's in Vishkar's good books again, Satya can relax a bit, and she wants to talk to everyone (which is surprising her a lot) but Sanjay is like the annoying little voice in the back of her head yelling 'don't do that! that's bad!' only he can like, have her fired and shit 
> 
> in other news, she willingly had a conversation (two!) with Junkrat, so he's happy, which we'll see in the next chapter :D
> 
> also, whoo 100k words! XD


	25. Back to the Watchpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Overwatch team return home to Gibraltar.

Junkrat drummed a song on his thighs, his explosives stored in blast cases below deck, his RIPtire not needing a place on account of the fact he’d used it to blow up a pack of omnics, and a beautiful explosion it had made, too. They were taking off shortly, heading back from snowy Siberia to sunny Gibraltar, and he couldn’t wait. The drizzly snowy shit had been driving him mental, and when they got back to base he had every intention of throwing himself down in the grass and soaking up the sun for a while, even if it was technically winter. The cool wintery sun was still miles better than shitty snow.

He was so excited to be off and out of the shitty Siberian weather that Junkrat was barely restraining himself from jumping out of his seat and yelling at everyone to get their arses onto the dropship. Of course, the fact that he’d already been buckled into his seat and Hog was guarding the buckle helped keep him still.

McCree was equally eager to be off, similarly buckled in across the way, and he was making regular complaints to the stragglers. Mei was certainly the one holding them up, he was sure of it. She was off with Zarya saying her goodbyes – they’d become firm friends in the short while they’d known one another. The squeak of wheels caught his attention then, and Junkrat looked around to see one of the military nurses wheeling Symmetra up the ramp.

Junkrat could tell Symmetra didn’t like being stuck in a wheelchair still; the expression on her face was a little embarrassed and a bit defensive, but Mercy had vetoed her attempts to walk around unsupervised until they got back to Gibraltar and her stitches were removed using Mercy’s more advanced equipment. The Siberians had standard medical equipment, apparently, and while they were capable of saving lives, they couldn’t get their patient out of bed quite as quickly as Mercy could if she had access to her own surgery. Symmetra wasn’t the only one who’d been injured, but hers was the most serious. Winston had been shot through the left forearm and was very annoyed about it, and had deferred leadership of the mission to 76, who’d been reluctant to take it, claiming that he didn’t do that anymore, but then he’d started ordering them about like he’d been born to do it. As Mercy said – _methinks the lady doth protest too much._

Mei had been pinned down by a falling tree caused by an exploding omnic impacting on the base of it, and Zarya had come to her rescue, lifting the tree off her and carrying her to medical attention. Fortunately, the angle of the tree had been such that it didn’t crush her completely, but it did dislocate her shoulder; a relatively easy fix, but she’d still been placed in a bed alongside Symmetra for a few days. Junkrat had stayed away from the infirmary during that period – he didn’t think he could talk to Symmetra while there were eyewitnesses.

Other people had ended up in the hospital, like Hanzo, who’d made himself sick by shedding his coat so he could shoot unhindered, and at one point, Pharah had been keeping watch in her Raptora suit – only it had been ‘sleeting’, or so Mei said, and she’d been still for so long that when she went to move, she’d been in for a nasty surprise – her joints had iced over. She’d had to be carried inside and thawed out in front of a heater. Ana had been very amused once over the initial shock of seeing her daughter carried in on a stretcher.

That’s not to say that the mission had been all bad – they’d thumped a bloody lot of bots, and after Symmetra and Torbjörn took down the titan, there’d only been smaller omnics to deal with, which had been nice, because Junkrat’s bombs _worked_ on them.

He’d gone to Torbjörn as soon as he was able and demanded to know what the fuck that titan had been made out of – Torbjörn had been just as pissed off to learn about the ‘improvements’ the omnium had made to his skyscraper builder, and together they’d spent hours studying the shielding systems harvested from the computer of the titan, and Junkrat and Roadhog collected as many pieces of the titan as they could, for the Siberians, equally eager to know how to shut down titans should more appear, let them have the use of their testing range – and their explosives supply.

Junkrat spent many happy hours coordinating with Torbjörn while learning exactly what kind of explosives were going to put a dent in the titan, and when they finally had it, they were asked to write up a report that would be circulated amongst Eastern Europe’s military forces. The thought was so daunting that Junkrat feigned ignorance on official report writing protocol and got Torbjörn to do it, dictating all the mixtures and ratios he’d worked out to the engineer.

He’d been kept so busy (and the hospital was so full) that by the end of their trip he’d only managed to see Symmetra three times. She seemed fairly happy to see him though, which was… confusing. Junkrat didn’t quite know what to think about it, and kept up his excuse of not trusting the machines Mercy used – which was partly true. Symmetra had suffered what he would have called a fatal wound, and he still didn’t quite know how Mercy had done it, but he wasn’t complaining.

At this point, he was quite sure she wanted to be friends again. Quite sure. At least, pretty sure. Junkrat sighed, disgusted. Neither of them had mentioned the word ‘friend’, so he didn’t have a bloody clue. The closest thing to it that he had was her saying she wished for there to be trust between them again, when he’d seen her the first time after her injury. She hadn’t been quite as warm and friendly since, either, so he chalked her behaviour up to her eagerness to thank him for saving her life. He and Hog had dissected her every word after Junkrat had not very coherently relayed the conversation they’d had.

Roadhog was of the opinion that he was on shaky ground – one fuck up and she’d think Vishkar had been right after all and be gone forever.

Junkrat was very keen to not fuck up.

Something else that Roadhog had pointed out was that Symmetra had said ‘in time’. That was very, _very_ important, and Junkrat had latched onto those words and run with them. She’d said ‘in time’ and that meant they weren’t friends right now, but if he kept at it, he could get back into her good books again. Roadhog had told him to pull his head in and stop going at it like a bull at a gate – he needed to take her slowly. Talk to her, find the kind of things she liked to talk about, and above all, don’t pressure her. Junkrat knew Hog was enjoying this – the miserable bastard was probably placing bets on how long it’d take him to fuck up.

But Junkrat was determined _not_ to fuck it all up again.

There was something else Roadhog had said that made Junkrat’s heart burst into an unruly sprint just thinking about it. Roadie had suggested that as Symmetra had mentioned wanting to build trust between herself and the rest of the team, proving to her that _he_ trusted _her_ was probably a good idea.

And what better way to do that then by telling her his name?

Cripes, he was getting twitchy just thinking about it. Junkrat’s foot drummed out an impatient beat on the floor as he considered whether he really wanted to go that far.

In the Junker world, names were sacred. They were kept hidden, because they were your identity, your connection to the old world. They all knew the government had shit like birth certificates, medical records, all sorts of data – if you’d been born before the omnium blew. Therefore, everyone went by a moniker, carefully guarding their old names like the most precious treasure. Roadie knew his name, and he knew Roadie’s, and that was because Junkrat trusted him implicitly. Well, also because they’d been arrested together a few times and their real names had been used by the police. Those bastards.

What had originally been a standard bodyguard arrangement had turned into a genuine – if a bit odd – friendship. If he told Symmetra his name… well, it represented another equally big thing for him. Especially if he didn’t know her name. Well, technically, he already knew it. The names of the others at the base weren’t such big secrets, and he’d heard Mercy call her Satya a few times. Still, Junker code dictated that he still think of her as Symmetra, and nothing in the world would induce him to call her anything else unless she gave him her express permission.

Christ, imagine if she did. Junkrat couldn’t imagine it. As private and reserved as she was… if she gave him permission to call her by her real name he might just implode. Junkrat managed a grimace at how far gone he was, but he couldn’t help himself. He liked her, and though he thought he was a fool for liking a suit, he knew he didn’t really have any way around it. He did like her. Far too much for his own good, really. Which was why he was so bloody excited that they’d made up. Well, he was pretty sure they’d made up. Who knew what went on inside Symmetra’s head. But, he remembered, they’d brought up their fight and apologised for it, so… that was generally how you made up after a fight, yeah? So it stood to reason that he and Symmetra were on good terms again. At the very least, she was happy and thankful that he’d saved her life, so he could build on that.

Junkrat heaved an irritated sigh and scratched absently at his cheek. What a bloody fool he was. He was overthinking things, he was sure of it.

The others started to get on board properly then, and Junkrat’s twitching upped a notch. He was ready to _go_. Once the dropship was fully loaded, Tracer came over the intercom. Mercy was sitting in the cockpit with her to keep her company while the rest of them filled the belly of the ship, and her cheery voice filled the space.

“Cleared for take-off!” Tracer announced. “Hold on t’your socks!”

The dropship moved off along the runway and frankly, Junkrat couldn’t have been happier. Finally, they were getting out of the shitty cold snow.

 

* * *

 

Arrival back at Gibraltar was not the sun drenched relaxation Junkrat envisioned. His attempt to go lie in the sun after shedding his winter gear had been thoroughly quashed by 76, who had bitched at him until Junkrat got up and went inside. They’d had to unload everything from the dropship and cart it inside, and then Winston had them all summoned to the conference room for debriefing.

Junkrat had enjoyed precisely none of it.

What he wanted to do was get back to the workshop, unload the admittedly few bombs he had left, and get cracking. He had stock to replenish, and he’d need to build a new RIPtire too. Mind ticking over, he spent most of the debriefing alternating between twitching impatiently and scribbling in his notebook.

When they’d finally been released, Junkrat made a beeline for the workshop, accompanied by Roadhog, Hana and Lúcio. Lúcio’s sonic amplifier had been damaged in a fight with an omnic not long before they were set to return to Gibraltar, and so he was bringing it to the workshop to finish the repairs started in Siberia.

They hadn’t been in there for long when Torbjörn stumped in with Reinhardt, loudly complaining about the state of the larger man’s armour, which was being carted in on a wagon.

“Well, maybe I’ll get Brigitte to come along. God knows she’s been itching to get inside ze place!”

“Good!” Fired back Torbjörn. “If she’s here I don’t have to do it!”

They both laughed heartily then, and Torbjörn stumped over to his forge to fire it up.

“How is Brigitte?” He called over his shoulder. “I have not seen her in an age!”

“She is well!” Boomed Reinhardt, incapable as ever of lowering his voice. Junkrat blinked and scratched his head. _Who the bloody hell is Brigitte_? “She has been in Stuttgart lately.”

“Talk to Winston, get her to come here.” Torbjörn said, examining his tools. “Our rate of missions is rising and it is getting harder to find the time to fix your armour on top of all else I have to do.”

“Very well. I will talk to Winston soon.” Reinhardt wandered over to where they were sitting. “And what goes on here?”

Junkrat motioned at the tyre he was modifying. “I’m replenishin’ stock.” He said shortly, then jerked a thumb at Lúcio and Hana. “An’ Lúcio’s busted his amp.”

Lúcio nodded, looking disgusted as he rapped his sonic amplifier sharply with his hammer. “An omnic got in a lucky shot.”

Reinhardt chuckled. “Bad luck, it seems.”

Lúcio nodded. “Sure was.”

At that moment, the door slid open with the familiar hiss of hydraulics, and everyone in the room turned to look at Symmetra, who paused in the doorway, a hand laid over the top of her wound. She was walking very slowly and stiffly, that much was true, but she was still walking, and obviously quite pleased with that fact.

“It’s more crowded in here than I expected.” She commented with a raise of her brow, before she continued slowly over to her workbench.

“Ah, Torby is going to fix my armour; zat is why I am here!” Reinhardt let himself drop into a chair. “And you are out of your wheelchair! Has Angela set you free?”

Symmetra laid a hand on her belly again, over where her wound was. “She has. My stitches are out, she’s used some of her equipment, and she says that I am permitted to walk again.”

“Zat is good news.”

Symmetra nodded. “I certainly think so.”

She turned then, sitting down at her desk, and tugged something that looked like a large tablet towards her. Junkrat watched in interest as she set up several strange little sleek white instruments, and once turned on, they revealed themselves to be projectors, setting up a hovering cityscape in blue light above the desk. Symmetra manipulated the light with her mechanical hand, a twist of her fingers rotating her view or zooming in for a closer look. Once peering at the lifelike replica of the city, she picked up a mechanical looking pen and started drawing directly on the tablet screen.

“What’s that for, Symmetra?” Asked Hana curiously, getting up to have a closer look. “Doesn’t look like your usual hard light stuff.”

“That would be because it isn’t.” Symmetra replied without looking back; she sketched a few lines and then spun the cityscape in mid-air. “Vishkar has just sealed the deal for a contract with Omega Industries. My superiors wish me to submit a design for the new building.”

Junkrat instinctively looked to Lúcio, who, as expected, was bristling. “What kind of contract?” He asked, and Symmetra paused before she responded.

“Omega is an American company, and they are expanding. They want us to build them an office tower for their new location in Hong Kong.”

“And zey want you working again, before you are fully recovered?” That was Reinhardt, sounding critical of Vishkar, and Symmetra paused.

“It is not Vishkar’s fault I was injured.” She said softly. “The contract has been won, regardless of my wound, and if I wish to maintain my position I must keep up with the workflow.”

“But you must allow yourself time to heal!” Reinhardt was frowning now, apparently taking offense at the idea that Symmetra was not permitted time to recuperate.

Junkrat watched as her lips curved up slightly. Symmetra tilted her head, doing that thing she did that was fast becoming a favourite of his; the thing where she paused before speaking and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you for your concern, Reinhardt, but I am fine, truly. Mercy has done wonders.” Her lips ticked up a fraction higher. “Besides, this kind of work isn’t particularly strenuous. It has been a while since I’ve designed anything, and I’m glad to be able to get back into it.”

“And you can design a _whole_ building? Wicked.” By now, Hana was on her knees beside Symmetra’s chair, peering over the edge of her workbench with interest.

“I am an architech, you know.” Symmetra’s tone held a tinge of amusement. “Designing and building structures is what I do.”

“Wait.” Reinhardt held up a hand. “You _build_ zem? As in, you personally?”

“Yes.” Symmetra held out her hand, where blue light shimmered in her palm. “I’ll show you.” Junkrat blinked. A demonstration? This contract thingo must have her in a good mood. Symmetra pulled her portfolio towards her, flicking through it until she came up with the blueprints of a complicated looking skyscraper. “This is one of my designs. It is a housing complex that was constructed in Utopaea – we are always expanding as India continues to resettle the population. I was given the specifications and the general expectation, and then I designed this.” She motioned at the tablet she was drawing on and then picked up a little machine. She typed something in on the little screen on its side, and then it projected a hologram of the building into the air, which she then rotated with a flick of her fingers. “You see? Once the design is finalised and approved, we break it down into pieces-” Symmetra flexed her fingers and the building ‘exploded’, flying into many separate parts that hovered before her. She selected one, something that appeared to be an archway, and brought it forwards. “Usually, a team of six architechs are assigned to complete a building, though it can vary depending on size and complexity. We have our little schematics here, and from there, we-”

Symmetra stood up and performed some complex motions, and then all of a sudden there was a replica of the little blue archway – only this one was life size, floating in the centre of the workshop. Junkrat’s gaze flickered back to her face and caught her grimace, the way her hands twitched back towards her abdomen, making the hard light edges tremble, and realised she’d probably hurt herself standing like that. Nevertheless, Symmetra ignored any pain she felt.

“This is an incomplete form.” She said, a flex of her fingers causing the blue wireframe of the arch to shrink slightly, so it didn’t hit the ceiling. “It allows us to see the part in relation to the rest and modify if it is needed before placement.” She rolled her fingers then, and the hard light shattered into specks of light that faded before they hit the ground. “I won’t properly form it here, of course – we’d have a giant metal arch in the middle of the workshop.”

Reinhardt got up from his chair and headed over to rub his beard thoughtfully at her little machines, while Junkrat blinked. He knew that her hard light built things, and even buildings, but he hadn’t realised that she herself was capable of building entire skyscrapers on her own.

“Zat is very impressive.” Reinhardt said. “Almost like magic.”

That made Symmetra’s smile widen just a fraction. “Yes, we all thought so as children.”

“Ah, indeed?” Reinhardt chuckled. “Is zat how you decided to be an architech? Because you saw them as a child?”

Junkrat paused in the act of screwing in a bolt; how would Symmetra answer this one? She’d told him what he was pretty sure was the truth in a rare moment of openness, but with how private she was, he was fairly doubtful she’d just up and tell the whole room.

“Not quite.” Her tone had cooled dramatically, and her eyes flicked to the side. “I was recruited. I was young and India was still struggling, and Vishkar was hunting in all parts of the country for more architechs to train. The more they had, the more they could build reliable, sustainable housing and other infrastructure for the displaced population. I was one of those recruits.”

 _Ah_. Junkrat nodded sagely. She was telling the truth, but not the _whole_ truth.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Hana held her hands up. “When you were young? How young?”

Symmetra paused, her mouth tightening before she replied. Her shoulders stiffened, her back straightening, and he knew she was bracing herself against the conversation. “I was eight when Vishkar recruited me, and nine when I began my formal training.”

“Whoa.” Hana’s eyes were wide. “You’ve been doing this for a long time.”

Symmetra nodded. “I have. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” The rebuff was sudden and her words were cool, but it was nowhere as icy and formal as it’d have been in that patch of time in between Austria and Siberia. Maybe she really had had a change of heart. Junkrat was of the opinion she needed to make up her mind; a second later and he scolded himself, for it wasn’t her that had made that initial decision. It was Vishkar.

Hana and Lúcio turned to frown over the sonic amplifier again, while Junkrat scowled at his reserves; he’d have to put an order in to Winston for more explosives. He had casings aplenty, but not enough stuff to put in them. Torbjörn and Reinhardt settled into easy conversation while the former hammered out dints in the latter’s armour, and Symmetra worked quietly at her bench, sketching and measuring and frowning at her little holograms.

Everything was content and rather peaceful, and Junkrat was feeling a little sleepy in that pleasant way that came from just having completed a successful mission, with no expectations for the next day, when there came an interruption in the form of an incoming holovid that beeped annoyingly from Symmetra’s desk. Junkrat looked up at the sound, as did the others; Symmetra made an apologetic noise and then answered it, speaking in low tones and an undecipherable language to the well-coiffed man on her screen.

Junkrat heard him call her Satya, and though he didn’t have a clue as to what else was said, he bristled at the thought. She let _this_ man call her by her name. A few moments later, Symmetra called him Sanjay, and Junkrat’s eyes narrowed. _So_. This was the bloke. Sanjay Korpal. The bloke who’d told her not to associate with any of them. His fingers twitched with the need to lob a grenade in his face; the only thing that stopped him was the fact that Korpal was not physically here. He’d only end up blowing up Symmetra’s workbench, and she’d probably gut him on the spot.

Symmetra seemed to be showing Korpal the design she was working on; she had two holograms set up, one of the cityscape from earlier, and one of an incomplete skyscraper design. As he, Hana and Lúcio watched curiously, she overlaid the two so the skyscraper filled the empty plot where it was obviously destined to stand. Korpal seemed pleased; he was nodding, a satisfied expression on his face as he made a few comments. At one stage, his gaze slid past Symmetra and focused inattentively on the three of them working behind her, and then his head snapped back around to stare.

Korpal’s words quickly grew rather heated, and Symmetra looked over her shoulder to Lúcio and frowned.

She seemed to be trying to placate Korpal, who seemed very angry at the mere sight of Lúcio. For his part, the DJ smirked annoyingly.

“So.” Korpal sneered the words in English then. “You so arrogantly flaunt your stolen weapons before us.”

Symmetra looked a tiny bit exasperated, Junkrat noticed.

Lúcio shrugged. “I got repairs to make, man.” He said, brandishing his spanner. “Not my fault you’re in here.”

Korpal’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve _damaged_ it? Even worse.” He turned to Symmetra and said something that wasn’t English, to which she sighed slightly and replied evasively. Korpal argued for a few minutes more, and then hung up in disgust.

“What was that all about?” Hana went scooting towards Symmetra with wide and curious eyes.

Symmetra frowned for a long moment. “Sanjay disapproves of Lúcio’s presence here, and the fact that he is still in possession of stolen Vishkar tech.”

Lúcio grinned. “Well, _Sanjay’s_ just gonna have to get over it!”

Something wry tugged at the corner of her mouth. “That’s what I told him. Vishkar doesn’t have the authority to come and make decisions or arrests within Overwatch.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not complaining about that, funnily enough.”

Symmetra paused slightly. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Sanjay was personally connected to the projects in Rio – he is simply bitter that you haven’t been arrested yet.”

Junkrat eyed Lúcio and then looked back to Symmetra. They’d passed the stage of having full on fights every time Vishkar or Rio was mentioned, and tended to just snipe at each other now.

“What’s Rio like now, Lu?” Hana asked innocently, and Lúcio grinned.

“Better now that Vishkar’s gone.” There was a hint of a challenge in his tone, and everyone turned to see if Symmetra would rise to the bait. She didn’t; merely sat there straight-backed as ever, sketching something on her tablet.

“Why’d Vishkar even go there?” Junkrat asked, raising a brow over his bomb. Lúcio shrugged.

“Beats me. I know they were trying to win a contract or somethin’…” Lúcio trailed off, half glancing at Symmetra, who was still ignoring them all. Junkrat cottoned on to the fact that Lúcio was daring Symmetra to contradict him by pretending to muddle the details.

“What kind of contract?” Hana asked, and Lúcio turned to Symmetra.

“Well, Symmetra? What kind of contract?”

Symmetra turned on her swivel chair very slowly, giving them all a highly unimpressed look. “It was to redevelop large sections of Rio, namely, the city centre and the slums.”

“Right.” Lúcio said. “And then they won the contract, because their only rival Calado burned down in a freak accident. Burned a good chunk of the favelas too.”

“A tragedy.” Symmetra said softly. Her face had gone very strange; set hard, as if she were trying to avoid showing any emotion. Her fingers twisted the fabric of her skirt tightly, seemingly without realising she was doing it. She abruptly turned around. “But at least it was worth it.”

Junkrat blinked; what a weird thing to say. He glanced at Lúcio, who looked like he was choking.

“ _Worth_ it?” He spluttered. “How the hell do you figure that?”

Symmetra’s fingers shifted restlessly on her blueprints. “Calado’s proposals were unwieldy, unrefined. What Vishkar could offer was worlds above their best efforts.”

Lúcio looked like he was having a fit. “Vishkar practically _enslaved_ us-” He spat, and Symmetra turned slightly.

“It was your own fault. Had you not protested and such like we would not have had to use force. Vishkar strives for _order_ , and Rio forced our hand.”

Lúcio swelled like a bullfrog, and then Symmetra stood.

“Excuse me.” She muttered, evidently choosing to end the argument by leaving, albeit rather slowly, with one hand pressed against her abdomen. She took her tablet with her, and Junkrat turned to blink at Lúcio once she’d left.

“Hey.” Hana said, her nose wrinkled. “How’d she know what Calado’s proposals looked like? Wasn’t that a few years ago? Why would Vishkar share the plans of a rival company with all their employees?”

Lúcio’s brows snapped together and Junkrat stared.

“Y’sayin’ she had somethin’ t’do with it? _”_ Junkrat asked, and Lúcio mouthed something wordlessly.

Hana shrugged uncomfortably. “Well… I don’t know. Maybe she knew someone who was there.”

Lúcio’s eyes were narrowed when Junkrat turned back to him. “Well, I think that’d be interesting to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something of a filler chapter before things start happening once more. there will be a Significant Moment happening between Junk and Satya soon, so stay tuned~


	26. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya finds a new perspective coming from an unexpected direction.

Satya took it easy for a day or two. She settled back into her established routine and performed gentle yoga so not to aggravate her injury – her stitches had been removed and she felt good, apart from an occasional twinge if she moved too fast. She went to see Mercy each morning for a check-up, and nothing seemed to be amiss, to the relief of both of them. All in all, her recovery from the disastrous – at least from her point of view – Siberian mission was going well.

She abstained from thinking too hard about Overwatch and Talon related happenings, concentrating instead on the building contract Vishkar had procured. She’d spent quite a few happy hours losing herself in the task of designing a skyscraper – it was one she very much enjoyed, and she hoped Sanjay and their superiors would choose her design as the one that would be constructed, and now, she was taking a small break.

Satya hummed slightly under her breath as she walked from the hangar to the grassed outside area; it was such a lovely day she wished to sit outside for a while and relax. With her proposal for the Omega building well on the way and no new leads for Overwatch missions, she had a little free time, and fully intended to use that time for a nice little break.

Having reached the grassy little expanse just before the cliff, Satya inspected the ground and then sank down onto the grass, closing her eyes and tilting her face up to the sun. Winter was all but here, and though Gibraltar stayed a decent temperature for most of the year, the sun still felt very pleasant against the slight chill.

“Good morning.”

Satya jumped; she hadn’t seen anyone else around when she’d sat down. Turning slightly and shading her eyes, she saw Hanzo seated on a rock at the very edge of the cliff, looking at her. From her angle of approach, she wouldn’t have seen him as she sat down.

“Good morning.” Satya furrowed her brow slightly. “I didn’t know you were here. I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all.” Hanzo looked out towards the ocean. “I was merely thinking.”

“The same as me, then.” Satya smiled slightly and then turned to the waves herself. The sea breeze had quite a bit of bite to it, and she drew her light jacket a little tighter around her shoulders. Hanzo didn’t seem to feel it, or if he did, he didn’t worry about it, for he wore his clothing with his chest bare just the same as ever.

“What do you think about?” Hanzo inquired, and Satya looked back towards him, mildly surprised. He had never really struck her as the type to enter in to pointless conversation.

“My work. I’ve nearly completed my draft for the Omega proposal. I’ve got some spare time on my hands now, which is a bit of an unusual feeling.” Satya realised as she finished the sentence that Hanzo wouldn’t have a clue what the Omega proposal was, but he didn’t seem to mind not knowing as he nodded slightly and stood up, walking over to fold himself neatly to the ground at her side.

“Always a good feeling.” He said, looking out at the ocean.

“I don’t know. I like to be busy.”

Though Hanzo didn’t look at her, she saw the glimmer of teeth as he smiled. “An equally good virtue.”

“True.”

“How is your injury? I believe Mercy has mended you completely.”

Satya smiled, laying a hand over her wound. “She has. There’s little more than a scar, and it is fading quickly.”

Hanzo nodded. “Mercy is a valuable asset to the team. I doubt we’d get far without her to patch us up.”

“No.” Satya pushed her hair behind her ear. “She is certainly invaluable.” They sat in silence for a moment, and then Satya turned towards him. “How do you feel about Overwatch?”

Hanzo turned his gaze towards hers for a moment. “Why do you ask?”

“I was curious. Like me, you are not really an agent here.”

“You might say that I am neither here nor there.” Hanzo paused for a moment. “You know my background, I think?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know that Overwatch is not something I’d have had anything to do with under ordinary circumstances.” Hanzo paused, and a slight glimmer of humour reached his features. “Well, unless they came to arrest me.”

“So were you wary?”

“Incredibly. I barely spoke a word to anyone besides my brother, when he was here. I had no intention of staying, then. I meant to leave.”

Satya twisted a strand of her hair thoughtfully. “And now?”

“I have nothing to fear.” Hanzo leaned back. “The people here are very honourable. They have accepted both my brother and I despite our pasts, in addition to the others who have… unsavoury backgrounds.”

“And by that-” Satya said. “-you mean the Junkers.”

Hanzo made a noise of assent. “Hmm, and the others. Jesse McCree hasn’t such a clean slate as Hana, let’s say. Lúcio is a revolutionary and a thief, and both Morrison and Ana are vigilantes now, despite their pasts. My brother and I were born into a criminal empire. I have come to see Overwatch as a melting pot – so long as your goal is common with theirs, anyone is welcome.”

“Hmm. I wonder.”

Hanzo looked at her. “And what do you mean by that?”

“I feel unwelcome, sometimes.” Satya turned to him with a slight frown etched between her brows; she didn’t quite know why she was telling him this. “There is a clear sense of otherness, between the rest of them and I.” Which, she reminded herself, was precisely what she wanted. What Vishkar wanted.

“Which you have done yourself.” Hanzo eyed her with a thoughtful expression on his face. “I have done a lot of watching here, Symmetra, and I wonder if you truly know just how ready they were to accept you.” He paused. “Well, with the exception of our young revolutionary.”

Satya allowed a smile to turn her lips. “Yes, a very important exception.” She wondered why he was telling her this. “But I doubt they are _that_ willing to accept someone like me. I am from Vishkar – my interests are that of my company, not of Overwatch.”

“But Vishkar is providing funding, and you are supposed to aid Overwatch, are you not?”

Satya frowned slightly. “Yes, that is true.”

“Then Overwatch’s interests are your interests. There’s no reason the two must be mutually exclusive.”

“It isn’t that simple.”

“Is it not?” Hanzo turned to her. “I heard that Vishkar had forbade you from associating socially with everyone here. Is that correct?”

“It is.” Satya looked down at her knees. “My conduct was judged and found to be lacking. I had become too familiar with everyone and failed to carry out my objectives to the proper requirement.”

“The Belvedere wasn’t your fault.”

“But I should have worked harder to make sure nothing so terrible happened.”

Hanzo frowned. “You were working against Talon.” He said, voice contemplative. “Talon is an organisation who cut corners and fight dirty. You can’t plan for that kind of behaviour. Trust me – my inheritance put me at the helm of a similar operation.”

“Though the Shimada clan is made up of criminals rather than terrorists.”

“An important distinction.” Hanzo allowed. “But still, Vishkar was very unfair in their treatment of you.”

Satya shook her head. “No. I had a job and I failed it.”

“You didn’t fail.” Hanzo offered her a slight grin. “If you, personally, had failed, it would have meant that perhaps you didn’t have a plan in place or something wasn’t executed correctly; but this is Talon. You can’t plan for everything when dealing with them. You had a plan, but things went awry. You can’t account for everything.”

“I suppose.” She sighed. “Though my superiors don’t see it that way.”

“Ignore them.”

She snuck him a sideways glance. “You were the leader of your clan. Would you have tolerated disobedience from your subordinates?”

This time, Hanzo’s grin was wider. “No. Don’t use that kind of logic against me, please. My clan and Vishkar are two very different kettles of fish.”

“I’m well aware.”

“I say ignore them because they don’t know the situation well enough.” Hanzo paused to adjust the long ribbon in his hair for a second. “They are executives, are they not? They have no experience with missions and subterfuge, which is what Overwatch is.”

“No.” Satya allowed. “They don’t.” She neglected to mention the breaking and entering she’d done, all in the name of righting the world. That could be counted as subterfuge, though it wasn’t quite the same as what Overwatch did.

“So acknowledge that in your decision on how to act.” Hanzo continued. “It is foolish to follow blindly when your instructions come from someone who does not and cannot ever fully grasp the situation. Take the bones of your objectives from them, to be sure, but the meat should be what _you_ have judged to be fair and right.”

Satya raised a brow. “Where is this coming from? I wouldn’t have picked you to be the motivational type.”

Hanzo chuckled just slightly. “I had similar misgivings, you understand, though mine came from my own perception of myself and my status, rather than orders from any superior.” He made a slight hum in the back of his throat. “I have since learned to re-evaluate my stance.” Hanzo got to his feet then, an elegant and precise motion, and Satya looked up at him, brows furrowed with the weight of his words. “I would advise you to do the same.”

Satya watched him leave and frowned inwardly – his words stuck a similar chord to what Winston had said before Siberia. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps she ought to stop following orders quite so blindly and apply what she herself had learned to her behaviour. Now feeling conflicted and not at all relaxed, Satya stood up herself and went inside, her little moment in the sunshine ruined.

Having reached her room, Satya frowned and paced up and down the small carpeted space, thinking intently. Was Hanzo right? Should she cease to follow Vishkar so blindly, as he’d said? Her brow creased further. She didn’t follow blindly… did she? True, she supposed she followed Sanjay’s word as law… but she’d be reprimanded if she didn’t. Her hand traced the lens in the palm of her prosthetic uneasily. The one thing she couldn’t do was lose her arm. What would she be without it?

Nothing.

No home, no job, not even any family.

No, Satya knew the one thing she could never do was risk losing her arm. Not now, not ever.

But still… Hanzo’s words, combined with Winston’s, Mercy’s, Junkrat’s… the rest of them… she really couldn’t carry on the way she had. Maybe Hanzo was right. Maybe she should take the outline of her instructions from Vishkar and for the rest? Use her head.

Yes, why not?

She wasn’t unintelligent. Satya knew what Vishkar expected, and had come to learn what Overwatch required. There was no reason why she couldn’t hide and fumble and blur the lines and still present exactly what both sides wanted.

But.

Betrayal burned deep in her bones. How could she even contemplate this? Vishkar was her _family_ , almost the only one she’d ever known. She couldn’t disobey them like this. Anger prickled within her and she sank angrily onto her bed, her limbs buzzing with the need for physical exertion. If she were home in Utopaea she’d simply head to the studio she frequented and dance away her feelings and her thoughts, but here in Gibraltar, she was restricted to yoga – one of the most severely irritating things about living on the base was the lack of privacy, and she wouldn’t do something so intimate as dance where her co-worker’s might see her. Satya dragged her thoughts away from calming dance and back to the subject at hand – what was she to do? Her head was in turmoil and her belly could guide her no better – perhaps she would simply throw caution to the wind and follow instinct instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a short lil bitty chapter, mainly because it's sort of setting the stage for the next few chapters. even though I love Hanzo there has thus far been a startling lack of him in this fic. I needed some Hanzo and Satya needed someone else to help her sort out her feelings and what she should do. Hanzo didn't exactly mean to be the catalyst to her decision, but what can you do~
> 
> there will be a Big Thing next chapter (for the whole team, not just the otp), and then after that, Roadhog will be the straw that breaks the camel's back :D


	27. Repealing the Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The UN finally begin to talk to Winston about the Petras Act.

Junkrat was, for once, sound asleep in bed when an announcement came over the loudspeaker and woke him up. He jolted awake, body convulsing in a futile attempt to cower from the jarring sound that assaulted his ears, and blinked blearily upwards.

“All agents report to the lab, immediately.” Came Athena’s cool drone, and Junkrat swore.

“Fuckin’ hell…” He somehow found enough equilibrium to right himself, to tip himself to a sitting position, and untangled himself from the blanket. He blinked again in an attempt to wake himself up, and then pushed himself to the edge of his bed, hunting blearily about for his prosthetics.

Junkrat found his leg covered by his shorts, and then his arm not far away. He attached his arm first, sliding the stump into the hollow and fastening the straps with both his good hand and his teeth, flexing his fingers once the familiar feel of the pulleys and wires within fired up. He put on his leg then, reaching for the little bottle of machine oil he kept on his nightstand to soothe the squeak issuing from the hinge, then tightened the straps that kept it affixed to his thigh and reached for his shorts, thinking it’d probably be best if he showed up to this bloody stupid meeting with them rather than without them. After a moment of blinking blearily at them, Junkrat swore as he realised he’d have been much better served by putting the shorts on _before_ his prosthetic. He fumbled with them until he eventually got them on and stood up, waiting for a moment like he always did to regain his balance, and then turned towards the clock with an annoyed groan when he registered the time; _10:42am._ He’d been sleeping for a while. Not that he really minded, because he’d been sleeping, _properly_ sleeping, with no nightmares and no half-arsed shallow doze.

He tossed a few insults in Athena’s general direction and then pushed through into his bathroom, stepping over the shirt lying in the doorway to splash a tiny bit of cold water on his face, thinking it might wake him up a little. The water was unpleasant and the shock was worse, and Junkrat attributed such a terrible idea to his current half-asleep state, and then there came a pounding at the door.

Junkrat opened it to reveal Roadhog standing there, and the bigger man jerked his thumb up the corridor.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m gettin’ there.”

Scrunching a yawn beneath his hand, Junkrat considered the merits of ignoring the meeting and going back to bed, but he stifled the plan with an annoyed grumble; he’d skipped meetings before, and it only landed him in shit. He was better off just suffering through whatever the hell they wanted and then pissing off to bed like _he_ wanted. Junkrat scratched at his unshaven jaw and grumbled under his breath; there wasn’t really any point. Now that he was awake he sure as shit wasn’t going to get anymore sleep.

Even though he’d started dragging his sorry carcass out of bed pretty much when he’d heard the announcement, they were still a few minutes late, and Winston stopped whatever he was saying as they ambled in, Roadhog directing him towards an empty chair, which Junkrat all but fell into.

“You look like shit.” McCree noted from nearby, and Junkrat nodded dragging his fingers through his already messy hair.

“Ain’t gonna disagree.” His voice was low and rusty from sleep, and he dragged his fingers over his stubble again, trying to remember when he had last shaved. He couldn’t quite come up with the answer.

Winston cleared his throat. “Ahem. Now that we’re all here, I have some news.”  The ape paused to peer at his tablet, and Junkrat attempted to blink the sleep from his eyes. “I’ve been in a meeting with the UN all morning, and following the events in Siberia, they’ve called a conference… to discuss repealing the Petras Act.”

What followed was a round of surprise and exclamation, though Junkrat was far too out of it to take part.

“Really?” Asked Mercy, blank surprise in her voice. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” Winston looked pleased, a grin hitching his lips up. “The UN is finally paying attention to the omnics in Western Europe and it’s got them worried. Siberia and Russia have both presented reports on Overwatch’s effectiveness against the omnics, and the UN is considering making us legitimate again.”

Junkrat frowned slightly. He and Roadhog were criminals. If Overwatch went legit, what would happen to them?

“So what does it mean if the UN does decide?” Asked Hana. “Will things change much?”

Winston hesitated. “Well… they’ve already made it clear that should Overwatch be legitimised there will be conditions imposed on us all.” He looked down at his tablet and cleared his throat. “We will operate under UN guidelines, which means we won’t be deciding missions for ourselves. We’ll have to go where and do what we are told, no objections.”

There was some mutinous muttering at that.

“We will have funding, _proper_ funding, however.” Winston continued. “Enough to equip ourselves properly.” He turned to Symmetra, sitting poised and attentive in her chair. “Enough that Vishkar will no longer need to launder the funds they’re providing us with.”

Symmetra inclined her head once. “My superiors will be pleased.”

Junkrat saw Pharah narrow her eyes. “Vishkar is laundering money?”

“Only for Overwatch.” Symmetra’s tone had turned curt. “We don’t normally condone such a thing, but with the Petras Act in place there was no other way for Vishkar to fund the recall.”

Pharah looked even more suspicious. “Why _is_ Vishkar funding the recall?”

Symmetra took her time, crossing her legs neatly before she answered. Junkrat blinked at the pair of them in groggy irritation; it was way too early to have to listen to the Pharah vs Symmetra Show. “We are funding Overwatch because we have been monitoring the situation in Western Europe, as well as Talon, and we believe, despite the position of the UN, that Overwatch is a valuable world resource. Vishkar’s stance is that any organisation that can help protect the world from terrorism deserves at least a proper chance of doing so, and we know that you wouldn’t get very far without funding. There are also some personal motives; late last year there was an incident involving them and a warehouse filled with valuable tech was robbed. Vishkar is of the opinion that Overwatch can go a long way towards stopping such events.”

Pharah nodded, brows still furrowed, though Symmetra’s explanation made sense to Junkrat, so he assumed that it made sense to everyone else. No one else contested it, though he was quite sure Lúcio would have if he could have come up with an argument before Winston took the floor once more.

Junkrat began to tune out again – it was only Winston detailing precisely what the UN had said, or not said. He got the impression that they were dithering, apparently still angry over all the rules they’d broken while acting illegally. Also, 76. The UN had clued in to the fact that Overwatch knew where Jack Morrison was, and they wanted him handed over for questioning on a silver platter. McCree was also expected to be delivered up for questioning, and no doubt Ana would be too, but Winston didn’t think the UN knew she was with them. Ana had been smirking ever since he said that. Nothing being said was particularly interesting to him, and so Junkrat daydreamed right through it. He was imagining the bombs he wanted to work on that day, and pulled out his notebook to scribble some designs. He decided to replenish his stock of grenades – while he had plenty, it never hurt to have more.

“So… there is something else the UN mentioned.” Winston continued, and Junkrat glared at Roadhog as the latter elbowed him in the ribs to make him pay attention. “When we hired Junkrat and Roadhog, we never specified who exactly they were. The UN knows we have hired mercenaries, and that’s it.”

He paused.

“And?” Junkrat demanded. “Y’goin’ somewhere with that?”

“Well, yes.” Winston adjusted his glasses. “They haven’t come outright and said it, but I think they know who you are. Or at the very least, they suspect it.”

Mercy cast them a worried glance. “How do they know?”

“Austria.” Winston said heavily. “They _did_ take a joyride through the middle of Vienna.”

“So… what?” Junkrat asked. “They gonna arrest us?”

“Maybe.” Winston looked thoughtful. “But maybe not. I get the feeling the UN is confused. That’s why they haven’t accused us outright. It’s because though your joyride happened on the same night as the Belvedere, which Overwatch was publicly connected to, Symmetra complicates things.”

Junkrat looked over at Symmetra, who was watching Winston with an inscrutable expression on her face. “How?” She asked bluntly, folding her arms.

“Well, Vishkar has been very careful not to reveal your – or their – involvement with the recall. They have a fantastic PR team.” Winston grinned. “So far, the world thinks that Junkrat and Roadhog have managed to buy out an architech, and though it’s not the most flattering public image for Vishkar, it’s better than being connected to the recall.”

Junkrat watched as Symmetra nodded her head in understanding. “So if I hadn’t gone with them that night, the UN would think that they’re definitely the mercenaries you hired? My involvement has confused them?”

“That’s about the gist of it.” Winston adjusted his glasses. “As far as the world knowns, Junkrat and Roadhog are lying low somewhere in Europe. The UN is still going to be asking questions, and I dare say the truth will get out eventually, but for the moment, our secret is safe.”

Junkrat leaned back in his chair, the better to digest this information as Ana leaned forwards to question Winston. So the UN suspected, did they? And what happens once they found out?

“Question.” He asked, leaning forwards again as Ana stopped speaking. “What happens if the UN does find out? They’ll try t’arrest us?”

Winston looked slightly uncomfortable. “Well, yes. But, it’s the same as with Jesse or Jack; we won’t be handing you over.”

Junkrat stopped, the words stalling in his throat as he gave Winston an incredulous look. “Y’ _won’t?_ Why the hell not?”

Everyone looked a bit baffled at that, and Winston frowned, looking confused. “Do you… want to be arrested?”

Junkrat scoffed. “‘Course not. What I meant was, why ain’t y’gonna give us up? That’s kinda… that’s…”

“Not what you’re used to, I’d wager.” Ana took a sip of the tea she’d brought with her to the meeting. “That’s what you’re getting at, aren’t you?”

Junkrat stared at her, not bothering to reply as he attempted to sort through this startling pronouncement. He turned to Roadhog for help but didn’t get any, because the big man was staring with a similar air of confusion, though there was something else there too, something close to the feeling you’d get when something you’d expected was confirmed.

Ana continued, evidently realising he wasn’t going to talk. “I’ve met Junkers before.” She said matter-of-factly, taking another sip of her tea. “Or rather, I’ve seen them. I went to Australia for a bit for a mission, and the men I was tracking tried to hide by heading to the Outback.”

Junkrat snorted, momentarily distracted. “How’d that work out for ‘em?”

A grin curled the corner of her mouth. “Not well. They wound up captured by some Junkers who were very enthusiastically debating who they were going to sell the parts to by the time I caught up with them.”

Beside her mother, Pharah’s eyes bulged. _“Parts?”_

“Oh, the men I was tracking were part of a gang, and they all had bodily enhancements. I remember one had a cybernetic eye, similar to my old one, and two had prosthetic arms, as well as fancy tech and weapons.” Ana flashed him a knowing grin. “Junkers like that sort of thing, don’t they?”

“Sure do.” Junkrat agreed, tongue curling around his golden tooth.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Pharah narrowed her eyes. “You’re saying that Junkers will take and sell people’s _prosthetics?”_

“‘Course we will.” Junkrat grinned at her. “Or we use ‘em ourselves. Cityslickers always have the best parts. All shiny an’ new.”

She gave him a mildly horrified look in return.

“The point I was attempting to make-” Ana resumed. “-was that even though all those Junkers were working together, not a single one trusted the others. You could see it in their eyes. I was staking them out to see if I could recover my targets, and I saw one man take something he evidently wasn’t supposed to, and this little woman saw him. Tiny little thing she was, covered in dirt. She slit his throat before he realised what was happening. The others didn’t even seem to care, just kept more of an eye on the girl. Left the body there, took the parts, and left my targets tied to trees. If I hadn’t been there, they’d have all died.”

Junkrat nodded in agreement. “Don’t reckon that bloke’d been part of any gang then.” He speculated. “If he had, there’d have been more of a fight.” Beside him, Roadhog nodded in agreement.

“So, that’s what you feel, isn’t it?” Ana leaned forwards. “You two don’t really feel like you’re part of Overwatch, and so you’re always expecting us to hand you over to the authorities, aren’t you?”

Junkrat frowned in mute contemplation. Ana had… hit the nail right on the head.

“See?” She laughed, gesturing at them both. “I’m right, of course.”

He frowned at them all. “Cityslickers don’t trust Junkers.” He said with a slight growl. “An’ Junkers _definitely_ don’t trust cityslickers.”

“I don’t like it.” Put in 76, arms folded and expression stern. “It sounds like they’re making implications about the honour of the team.”

“Now, Jack, remember where he comes from.” Ana’s expression turned speculative. “You’re very young, aren’t you, Junkrat? How old were you when the omnium blew?”

Junkrat frowned. “That ain’t relevant.” He muttered.

“Come on. I’m trying to prove a point here.”

 He scowled and debated answering. “…I... don't know. Too little t'remember.” He finally replied.

Ana made a sympathetic face. "And your parents?”

“Dead. Think so, at least.”

Mercy leaned forwards, her expression very sympathetic. “Did you have anyone to look after you? An aunt or an uncle, perhaps?”

Junkrat grinned at her, a glimmer of gold in his teeth. “Nope.”

Ana nodded sagely. “You see? I’d like to see all the rest of you put your trust in anyone after fending for yourself in a radioactive wasteland since childhood.”

Junkrat stared at Ana for a long moment, then slipped her a brief but appreciative smile. Her answering one told him she’d seen it.

“Well, Overwatch is a team.” Mercy said firmly, leaning forwards. “We look after each other, no matter where you come from. No one is getting handed over to the UN.”

Junkrat stared, fingers tapping restlessly on the table. He knew his expression was probably odd, but he couldn’t seem to change it. It was strange, these people; sometimes it seemed like they _cared_. “Cheers.” He said eventually, and Winston cleared his throat and changed the subject.

Junkrat frowned at his notebook in silence. The subject matter had made him feel uncomfortable – it was much easier to deal with them all when treating them as he would a Junker, but now? He wasn’t sure – and now so he focused on his bombs, until he’d all but forgotten he was in a meeting at all, and when it ended, he ending up jumping in his seat when Roadhog clapped him on the shoulder.

“C’mon.” The big man grunted, and Junkrat packed up his notebook and fell into step beside him. They both avoided talking about the meeting. That was a subject for a later date, out of earshot of any potential eavesdroppers.

“Y’got plans t’day?” He asked, and Roadhog dipped his head.

“Target practise. McCree bet me I can’t take out all the trainin’ bots in under six seconds.” He rumbled, and Junkrat giggled.

“Halve that time, wontcha? Roight. I’m gonna head to the workshop an’ work on some grenades.” He stifled a yawn.

“Thought y’were gonna sleep.”

Junkrat rolled his shoulders. “Ain’t gonna fall asleep now.” He mumbled regretfully. “Too awake.”

Roadhog left him at the corridor which lead to the shooting range, and Junkrat continued on alone to the workshop, where he laid himself out on the floor with all his supplies and began to build some grenades. He made some extra smoke bombs too, and by the time anyone else approached the workshop, he’d finished putting everything together and was now waiting for the painted smiley faces to dry on the smoke bombs.

While he waited, Junkrat was invested in a different task; mending his shorts. Not the shorts he was currently wearing – his only other pair of shorts. He’d singed a hole in them the other day, and hadn’t yet gotten around to fixing the rather sizable scorch mark. Junkrat was, if truth be told, a terrible excuse for a tailor, but he had made up a whole bunch of patches so he could fix his shorts whenever necessary, for he ripped and burnt his clothes fairly often. This was unfortunate when the total sum of his wardrobe consisted of two pairs of shorts and a scraggly singlet.

Torbjörn had been there for a while, but then his wife had called, so he’d left, chatting away rapidly in Swedish. Frowning hard at the needle and thread in his hand, Junkrat picked a patch that would fit over the burn and set about sewing it on. His stiches were ugly and ungainly, but honestly, he didn’t give a shit so long as they worked. He looked up at the click of heels on the floor as the door hissed open and Symmetra came in, carrying her tablet over to her workbench.

“Mornin’.” Junkrat waggled his fingers at her from where he lay on the ground.

Symmetra raised a brow as she laid the tablet on the desk, then walked towards him. “Are you _sewing?”_

Junkrat looked down at his shorts. “Uh, yeah. Burnt me shorts. I’m fixin’ ‘em.”

“How industrious.” Symmetra leaned down and picked up the remainder of the patches and looked through them, a curious and almost impressed look on her face. “You made these all yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” She moved to lean against his bench, setting the patches down beside her. “It would appear you are a man of many talents.”

Junkrat grinned, his tongue curling around his golden tooth. “Ain’t gonna say no t’that.”

The corner of her lips tilted up. “I didn’t mean _that_.”

He giggled, the sound delighted. “Sure, sure.”

The look she gave him then was mildly scary.

He snickered and stood up, moving to lean against the desk as she did. “How’s yer belly?”

Symmetra laid her hand on her abdomen. “Very well. Mercy says I have made almost a full recovery. I just have to wait for the scar to fade.”

That caught his attention. “Yeah? Big scar? Will it take much healin’?”

She considered for a moment. “It is a decent size, yes. It will take me some weeks to fully recover.”

“Mm.” Junkrat nodded. “That’s good. That it’s healin’, I mean. Better than what it looked like, that’s fer sure.”

Symmetra inclined her head. “I imagine it wasn’t pretty.”

A giggle bubbled up his throat, but it wasn’t amused. “It wasn’t.” A slight silence fell, and he fiddled with his metal fingers until he came up with something to say. “What didja think of the meetin’?”

Her expression changed, becoming thoughtful as she wrapped her prosthetic arm around her waist and cradled her chin with her other hand. “I’m not sure. It’s… interesting, to say the least. I’m curious to see whether or not Winston and the UN can come to an agreement.” Symmetra’s gaze flicked over his form. “It will be equally interesting to see what will happen to you and Roadhog should the act be repealed. And Morrison, Ana and McCree, of course. Possibly Hanzo too.”

“ _Interestin’_ , she calls it.” He muttered.

A slight smile tilted her lips up. “Is Ana right?”

There was a considerably awkward silence, and then Junkrat exhaled irritably. “I dunno.”

That made Symmetra raise a brow and angle her body so she was facing him properly. “Well, if you don’t, how will anyone else?”

He rubbed his good hand through his hair, thoroughly messing up, from the disapproving glance she shot the top of his head. “It’s… complicated. Look, back in Junkertown, I knew where I stood, roight? Kill or be killed. Everyone’s got it out for ya, but everyone’s got a target on their backs. Easy enough. But here…” He trailed off uncertainly. “Merc acts like she _cares_ if me or Hog get hurt. It’s… strange.”

“So you don’t trust us. Or at least, not completely.” Symmetra’s tone was appraising, and she tilted her head. It made Junkrat recall all the things he’d discussed with Hog; wasn’t he supposed to convince her that he _did_ trust her? And he did, to some extent. Most of an extent. Junkrat considered the problem – did he think she would outright betray him, or not? He decided that he didn’t think she would, which was surprising, to say the least. Not at all what he would have said a few months ago. “But you’ve done things that would indicate that we can put our trust in you.” She paused and wetted her lips. “You saved my life.”

Junkrat rubbed at his unshaven jaw as he frowned briefly. “It ain’t _like_ that. Look, don’t wanna insult ya, but y’don’t get it an’ y’never will. None of y’are Junkers. Yer different. Civilised an’ all that. It’s like… Overwatch is a gang of do-gooders, an’ me an’ Hog are thievin’ Junkers.” He grinned at her then, momentarily distracted. “Much better company than the blokes back home though. Smell better, too.” Symmetra raised a brow as he continued. “Y’know, when y’ve spent yer whole life thinkin’ any bloke – even the one’s y’team up with – is gonna stab ya in the back, it’s hard t’shake the suspicion.”

“I am not insensible of that.” Symmetra said softly. “It must have been a difficult life. I don’t mean to imply anything. I was just curious.”

Junkrat nodded, relieved that she seemed to understand as well as she, a cityslicker, could. “It’s just… everythin’ is so _different_ here. Hard t’get used to.”

“I suppose that is fair enough.” Symmetra’s eyes were searching his so frankly Junkrat was feeling distinctly uncomfortable, and decided to change the subject. He motioned between them.

“So yer talkin’ t’everyone now, are ya?”

Symmetra frowned; she didn’t pretend she didn’t know what he meant. “I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t decided.”

Junkrat raised a brow, folding his arms and leaning more heavily against the bench. Symmetra chewed her bottom lip and looked down, her fingers twisting something in between. She was holding it so closely he couldn’t tell what it was. Clearly noting the direction of his gaze, she swiftly tucked it into her pocket.

“I know… that I was too harsh in my decision.” Symmetra tucked her hair behind her ear. “Before. But I’m still thinking things over.”

Junkrat looked at her hopefully. “Still no readin’ lessons though?”

Symmetra bit her lip harder. “No. I am sorry, Junkrat.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled, disappointment washing through him. Junkrat turned away, drumming his fingers on the bench, frowning at his patches for a moment. He could have sworn he’d had more than that… hadn’t he had a bigger circle patch with a smiley on it? He could see Symmetra out of the corner of his eye; she was looking at him, a strangely undecipherable expression on her face. She opened her mouth slightly, as though she were going to say something, but then footsteps sounded outside and she whipped her head around, crossing the room smartly in the next instant. Junkrat frowned as she sat down, her back to him and posture ram rod straight in her chair.

The door hissed open to reveal Roadhog, whose gaze turned in Junkrat’s direction, taking in his position where he still leaned against the bench as though talking to someone, and Symmetra, sitting and most _definitely_ ignoring everyone else in the room. Roadhog crossed the room slowly, and obviously taking in his expression (Junkrat was attempting to rearrange it, but the bitter disappointment was hard to shift), his mask turned in Symmetra’s direction and then back again, before making a questioning grunt.

Junkrat scowled, good fingers rubbing at the mechanical joint of his metal wrist, eyes locked on Symmetra’s back. “Said no again.” He muttered, too low for her to hear. “Dunno why I fuckin’ bother.” Junkrat turned to the book sitting on his bench; it was something Hana had gotten for him while out shopping – a book full of information about explosive compounds. It’d give him some fuckin’ amazing ideas, that’s for sure. But he couldn’t read it, not properly. He could only pick out some of the words. He shoved the book backwards in disgust. “Never gonna get there.” Fed up with the whole thing, Junkrat stomped off to the storage room, aiming to hide amongst the shelves and feign collecting some casings or paint or _something_ – but really all he wanted was to be alone for a moment so he could rearrange his thoughts.

So preoccupied with his own thoughts, Junkrat missed the way Roadhog’s gaze turned and settled, almost thoughtfully, on Symmetra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the Petras Act. I've been thinking and thinking about whether or not I should include more of it or just leave the recall illegal, but I finally found a good direction to take it in, which will also shake things up a bit for Junkrat and Roadhog - it'll be a bit tricky if Overwatch goes legit, because the UN won't like them being there. Not at all. 
> 
> Also, Junk and Symmetra have been acting dumb for long enough that Roadhog has had Enough™, which we'll see in the next chapter~


	28. An Unforeseen Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya finds encouragement from an unexpected corner.

The morning was bright and she was in a good mood. Satya leaned back in her chair and stretched, synthetic nerves letting her feel the sensation in her prosthetic arm. Sitting back up straight again, she frowned down at her desk. She had done a fair bit of work in her room, but now she found she’d left a tool she needed in the workshop, so she departed briskly, thinking she would go to the kitchens and get a drink as she picked up the tool. The kitchens were empty, so she made her chilled lemon water and sipped it slowly as she made her way back to the workshop. It was late afternoon, and it had a sleepy feel to it. Even the explosions she could hear coming from Junkrat as he blew things up at the testing range had a slow, reverberating feel.

When she entered the workshop, Satya found it empty apart from Roadhog, who was unzipping the case he kept his whetstones in, presumably so he could sharpen his hook or any of the other blades he kept on his person. He paused when she walked in, but she paid him no mind beyond a quiet greeting. Her mind was full of two things; the Omega proposal, and the Petras Act. Really, if Winston could pull this off, it would open up some much more for the recall. Her superiors were… less pleased. If the Act was repealed and Vishkar’s funding was no longer quite so vital to the recall, then they would lose their influence over Overwatch. Not that much influence had been exerted, she had been assured, but the prospect of losing that _potential_ was not so agreeable to Vishkar. For her part, she was quite pleased with the repeal. If it happened, then Vishkar would not have to hide their involvement – nor have to hide her. If Overwatch was legitimate again, the disastrous events of the Belvedere – her demerits – couldn’t happen again. No, if the repeal happened and Overwatch was legal once more, Symmetra wouldn’t be the one to complain.

Opening her top drawer, Satya smiled in satisfaction at finding the tool she wanted right where she’d left it, and picked it up, then closed the drawer firmly. Turning around, she nearly jumped out of her skin, for Roadhog was standing a step behind her – he’d made no sound when approaching.

“Oh!” Satya took a step back. “I didn’t see you there.”

Roadhog only watched her, and though his mask obscured his features, she got the sense he was considering her.

She pursed her lips slightly. “Can I help you with something?”

Roadhog inclined his head slightly. “Give the kid a break.”

Satya blinked. “…The kid?”

“Rat.” He clarified.

“Oh.” She blinked again. “What do you mean?”

Roadhog shifted his weight before replying. “Readin’.” He growled out. “Rat’s losin’ what he learned.”

Discomfort awoke in the pit of her stomach, but Satya ignored it in favour of pushing past him. “That has nothing to do with me.”

Roadhog simply watched her for a long moment. “Y’don’t believe that.”

Satya pursed her lips and ignored what he’d said. “I can’t teach him anymore. Such actions are prohibited by my employers, and-”

“Y’didn’t mind before.”

It crossed her mind that this was the most she’d ever heard Roadhog say in one go.

“That was different.” She said shortly, folding her arms and remaining facing away from him. “I hadn’t fully considered the consequences of my actions. Vishkar would most certainly not approve-”

“So don’t tell ‘em.” He rumbled, and Satya pinched the bridge of her nose.

“It’s not that simple.” She looked down at her toes and sighed. “I would like to. He was making excellent progress, but if Vishkar found out…”

“So don’t let ‘em.” Roadhog sounded very insistent, and she had to wonder if this was an act of his own volition, or if Junkrat had sent him here. Satya wondered how she could find out.

She turned and studied the massive Junker for a long moment. “Like I said, it isn’t that simple.” Satya bent to gather her supplies so she could leave. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“He’s real torn up ‘bout it.”

Satya paused. “Junkrat is?”

Roadhog nodded. “Yep. Won’t stop whinin’ ‘bout it.” He huffed an irritated sigh. “If y’won’t do it fer him, at least do it fer me own sanity.”

Satya couldn’t help the smile that threatened to turn the corner of her lips. “I can imagine he’s a rather… _fervent_ … complainer.”

Roadhog’s grunt was definitely annoyed now. “Put me outta m’misery. Teach the kid. He likes it when y’do.”

Satya tilted her head thoughtfully. That was an interesting statement indeed. Just what did Junkrat ‘like’? “Does he?”

Roadhog nodded. “Yep. He thought the world of ya when y’were teachin’ him. He likes ya…” Roadhog paused then, and Satya got the strangest feeling he was thinking of whether to say more.  “…An’ he don’t like suits so easy. ‘Cause ya proved him wrong, see. He’d thought y’were a suit, but suits aren’t nice like that.” Roadhog shrugged one massive shoulder. “Course, y’ve proved him right again after all.”

Satya frowned. “I don’t really like to think that he thinks that of me.” She said quietly. “Or anyone, really.” There was a strange feeling brewing in her stomach, and Satya knew it was because Junkrat had ‘thought the world of her’. What a funny thing to think of, especially when coming from the explosives obsessed Junker.

“Y’can fix it by teachin’ him again.”

Satya sighed slightly. “I would, truly, but my employers-”

“Won’t know if y’don’t tell ‘em. Rat ain’t about t’blab either, if that’s what y’worried about.”

Satya fixed him with a hard stare. “That isn’t it at all. My employers have instructed me to keep my distance from both of you-”

Roadhog’s grunt was very amused. “Rat said that. Yer bosses the type t’jump at shadows?”

Satya frowned. “You two aren’t shadows.” She said snippily, folding her arms. “You happen to be internationally renowned criminals with very large bounties on your heads.”

Roadhog chuckled deeply. “True.” He reached to his side and pulled out a sizable bag from his pocket then, which he wordlessly dropped on the desk before her. Satya raised a brow.

“What’s this?”

Roadhog motioned at the bag, and she took that as an invitation to open it. She did so and gasped, for what spilled from the bag and over her hands was an absurd amount of money, from all different countries. “What _is_ this?”

“Yer all concerned about jobs an’ bosses.” Roadhog motioned at the bag. “So take the pay an’ teach Rat as a proper job.”

Satya stared. “You… really want me to do this, don’t you?” Roadhog inclined his head and shoved the bag towards her, but she shook her head. Not only was the whole bag most likely to be stolen money, she couldn’t accept pay like that. “I’m sorry, but I can’t take this.”

Roadhog made an irritated and disgusted sound, but Satya held up her hand.

“Where is Junkrat?”

Roadhog paused. “Testin’ range.”

Satya tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bit her lip, recalling, inexplicably, Hanzo’s words from the day before yesterday. He’d made some good points, and hadn’t she somewhat made up her mind to let herself decide her own actions? The realisation moved her lips for her. “I will go and speak to him. Perhaps… perhaps I can make a small exception to the rule after all… so long as he is discreet.”

Roadhog made a very pleased noise then. “Good.” He rumbled as he scooped the money back into his pocket, and then he strode back towards his hook to complete the task he’d been doing when she came in. “Rat’ll keep his trap shut or I’ll shut it for him.” He promised over his shoulder, and Satya bit her lip harder as she watched him go.

Gods, was she really considering this? Satya rubbed at her temples briefly. Roadhog wanted her to teach Junkrat so much he was willing to _pay_ her? It was like a bizarre dream – although she supposed getting Junkrat to stop bothering him was a large motivator in his decision.

Slipping the tool she’d arrived here to get into her pocket, Satya left the workshop, and against her better judgement, she headed down towards the testing range. As she drew nearer, the explosions grew louder, and when the doors hissed gently open to reveal the testing range, she was pleased to see that the long grassy expanse was empty of other people – a wise decision, for the mine Junkrat had just detonated showered the area with stone and shrapnel.

“Junkrat?” She called, moving cautiously forwards, but he didn’t seem to hear her as he loped forwards, a large mine cradled in his arms. In a moment, she realised why; bug-eyed goggles sat ever his eyes and earmuffs cradled his ears. _Hmm_. She hadn’t thought him the type to take safety precautions before. This bomb was placed carefully in the centre of the range, and she watched as he flicked a few switches and lifted the hatch on the side, evidently checking. The concentration and passion in his face was actually rather impressive, she mused, and moved to stand behind the blast proof shelter wall. She waited there until she heard Junkrat’s distinctive clanking footsteps heading towards her and straightened, but rather than walk around the wall like an ordinary person, he chose to launch himself over the top of it, sliding down the wall barely an inch in front of her nose. He didn’t see her until he was halfway to the ground, and then he flailed backwards slightly in shock with a curse in the back of his throat, which messed up his landing, and he tipped over backwards.

Satya automatically reached out and grabbed his harness, pulling him upright again, and when she was sure he was steady again, she released him and took a careful step back, noting that she was entirely too close to him. Junkrat pulled his earmuffs down around his neck and shoved his goggles up, slicking his hair back along his scalp as he blinked at her confusedly. The effect was not wholly bad; now he resembled a mad scientist more than ever. She noted that he’d shaved away the blond scruff on his jaw from yesterday, which was something of a shame; it’d have helped the mad scientist effect beautifully.

“‘Metra?” His voice was blank with shock. “What’re y’doin’ here?”

“I wished to speak to you.” Satya examined her hands carefully and discovered that she now had soot on her fingers from where she’d grabbed his harness. Displeasure moved through her and she took the time to brush herself clean before she continued. “Roadhog came to see me before.”

Her thoughts darted to the ‘he thought the world of you’ comment as Junkrat’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. There was surely nothing in it; just hyperbole, she was sure of it.

“What’d he say?” Junkrat folded his arms.

Satya shrugged one shoulder. “Quite a number of interesting things. I decided I had to seek you out and see if there was any truth to it.”

Junkrat’s eyes now held alarm. “What’d that miserable fat bastard say-”

The start of a smile tilted her lips. “Nothing bad. Rather, he came to plead your case.”

If anything, Junkrat looked more confused than before. “He what?”

Satya checked over her shoulder to make sure no one else was there. “About your reading lessons. He came to ask me if I would teach you again.”

Junkrat’s whole body went slack with surprise. “He _did_?”

 _Ah_. So Roadhog _had_ sought her out of his own initiative. “He did. He even offered to pay me to do it.” Something wry smile twisted at her lips. “I get the impression that he is rather sick of your complaining.”

Junkrat seemed to fold in on himself then, looking a bit uncomfortable. A grin attempted to swim to the surface, but it seemed out of place and it quickly faded, replaced by something a bit confused. “Said that, did he?”

“Yes. He also said that I have proved you right. About being a _suit_ , that is.” Satya turned slightly, facing away from him. “I don’t like it when you call me that. I find it rather insulting, and if I do decide to teach you again, I want to you swear you won’t call me that again. At the very least, not to my face.”

Junkrat shook his head very rapidly. “I won’t. Sorry, ‘Metra.”

Satya looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Good. Now… I have a number of conditions.”

Junkrat nodded. “Fair ‘nuff. What are they?”

“The first…” Satya drew closer to him and flicked a piece of rubble off the top of a grenade hitched to his chest. “-is that you are clean when you come to lessons. You have showed up before in such a mess it was a wonder I ever went through with it at all.”

Junkrat’s eyes were wide and his ears were pink, she noted, and drew a step closer. She had meant her closeness to have a mock threatening feel to it, so that he knew she meant business, but instead her proximity coupled with the fact that she had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze and the fact that from her height she was basically nose to nose with his bare chest, was making her feel a bit warm. She frowned inwardly. That was a strange reaction she hadn’t anticipated and would have to study it later.

“The second-” She continued, trying to keep her tone business-like. “-is that you actually pay attention. If you recall, the last few lessons you had you wouldn’t even sit up. Lounging on the ground might seem acceptable to _you_ , but if you don’t behave in a serious manner, then there is no point in continuing.”

Junkrat nodded slowly but didn’t say anything as he swallowed hard, Adams apple bobbing. He had straightened up a fraction to accommodate her proximity, his shoulders pushed back rather than hunched forwards. It only accentuated his muscled frame, though she noted with displeasure that he was too covered with soot to really make him out. She couldn’t even see the freckles that dusted his shoulders. Not that she wanted to, of course. Satya tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and regarded him closely. He seemed to have forgotten how to speak, which pleased her.

“The third I hardly need to touch on, but it is that you don’t tell anybody. The fourth, is that you stop complaining to Roadhog. You’ll drive the poor man distracted.”

Junkrat found his voice then. “ _Oh_. Poor Hog, eh? He’ll be happy someone’s thinkin’ of him.” There was humour in his tone, and Satya couldn’t help but smile, which made Junkrat’s widen, gold glinting as his shoulders hunched with his laughter.

“He did seem pleased when I left.”

Junkrat sniggered and then stopped, brows snapping together, his expression perturbed. “So how come y’listen t’Hoggie when he asks but not me?”

Satya bit her lower lip. Junkrat was clearly trying to hide it, but she could see hurt in his eyes. “If you must know, you nearly had me worn down. I’ve been reconsidering my stance on the matter for a little while now, and… Roadhog was simply the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Junkrat bounced on the spot, an ear-splitting grin on his face “Yeah?”

She did smile then; just a bit. His enthusiasm was almost contagious at times. “Yes. You did make me feel awfully guilty.”

Junkrat’s brows snapped together as he considered that _. “Guilty?”_

“Mmm. You’re very good at puppy dog eyes.”

His grin widened. “Yeah?”

Satya foresaw great danger in that simple word, and she raised a threatening finger. “Don’t think it’ll get you anywhere further, Junkrat.”

Junkrat looked supremely self-satisfied, his tongue curling wet and red around his golden tooth. His fingers flexed at his sides as his posture hunched slightly, the giggle that welled up from his throat sounding too much like the cat that had got the cream. “Yes’m.”

Satya’s eyes narrowed; she did _not_ like the look on his face. A course of action occurred to her then, and though there was a part of her that noted all the problems such a thing could produce, she didn’t allow herself to overthink it. Moving forwards another step, she fisted her hand in his harness and yanked him down to her height. Junkrat made a startled noise in the back of his throat, hands flying out to steady himself, and he nearly went cross-eyed trying to keep her in view. He swallowed hard, Adams apple bobbing nervously, and a high pitched giggle escaped him, fading into silence as she frowned at him, her face barely an inch from his.

“You realise what I’m risking by doing this, surely?” She inquired, and Junkrat giggled again, the sound tense and strained and swiftly fading to silence.

“Uhm, yeah, I do-”

“Do you? If I’m truly mad enough to risk my place by doing this, you must make it worthwhile.” She tugged on his harness again, drawing him closer. Junkrat’s spine was alarmingly bent to accommodate the position by now, but he ignored the discomfort he must have felt in favour of staring at her, wide eyed, a hint of pink flushed over his cheeks. “You must _behave_.” She hissed. “Behave, and listen to me. If you don’t take this seriously, then the lessons will stop and I will _not_ consider it again. Am I understood?”

Junkrat nodded slowly, his expression slightly bewildered, slightly dazed, and slightly terrified. “Yeah.” He murmured, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Good.” Satya released him abruptly and stepped back to dust her hand off, now thinking that she’d possibly gone a fraction too far. She clasped her hands lightly in front of her. “Well, you’re busy. I’ll let you get back to work. Text me when you want a lesson, and… keep in mind what I just said.”

She turned to leave, and just when she was about to pass through the door, Junkrat called out.

“‘Metra?”

She turned to face him. “Yes?”

Junkrat looked very pleased, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness running through him as he looked at her from across the testing range, his molten eyes intense. “Thanks.”

She nodded. “You’re welcome.”

Satya went back to her room, though as she did so, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d done the right thing. Vishkar was a thought constantly on her mind – this afternoon, she’d deliberately and wilfully broken a direct order from Sanjay. If he were to find out… it wouldn’t be pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roadhog ought to be feeling pretty pleased with himself right about now! Junkrat is too, funnily enough XD
> 
> Satya is stressing, poor girl, mainly because she's a) betrayed Sanjay and Vishkar by agreeing to teach Junkrat again, and b) has agreed to teach Junkrat again and gone against her better judgement (if she would take a moment to actually admit it to herself, she'd figure out its actually because she quite liked their little reading lessons, but she's stubbornly resisting)
> 
> and so begins the first of her little rebellions against Vishkar!


	29. A Fresh Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat has his first reading lesson since Vishkar got in the way of things.

Junkrat shuffled down the corridor, scowling. He was looking for Roadhog, and as he did so, he massaged the stump of his arm, where his prosthetic was conspicuously absent. He glanced down, taking in the sight of blank space instead of what was _supposed_ to be his metal fingers, and his scowl deepened.

Ana had damn near wrestled him to the floor and stolen it – for an old lady, she sure as shit knew how to move. Of course, she had good reason to do so – or so she said. Junkrat wasn’t inclined to agree, for obvious reasons. He and Hana had embarked on a base-wide crime spree that morning out of sheer boredom, setting traps (mostly harmless) and bombs (mostly smoke) and stealing whatever they could get their hands on. Hana had proven herself to be a great partner in crime, and when they had been tracked down and caught by Reinhardt, who had bodily carried the pair of them down to the rec room, it would have been better off being called a courthouse instead.

McCree had been there, his stolen hat (since retrieved from the top of the launch tower) now jammed down firmly on his head, and Mei had been glaring, her clothes covered in soot and smelling of smoke. Hanzo had also found sparklers going off inside his quiver of arrows and was supremely unimpressed, while Torbjörn had gotten his and stuck inside a rubber tipped dog trap tucked inside his workbench drawer, and had been muttering disapproving Swedish things under his breath the whole time.

Ana had apparently appointed herself judge, and had decreed that as punishment, they would both have something dear to them removed; for Hana it was all of her games, and for Junkrat, it was his arm. Hana had lost her consoles and handhelds for a week, but seeing as arms were rather important, he was only losing his for twenty-four hours, but Junkrat was of the opinion it was quite long enough.

Hog wasn’t in his room, nor had he been in the rec room for the sentencing, so Junkrat was heading to the workshop and then the kitchen in search of him. As he rounded the corner to the workshop and spied Hog through the glass panelled door, he congratulated himself on having gone to the workshop first. The doors hissed open to allow him entry and Junkrat dropped into the nearest available seat, self-pity written on his features.

Roadhog paused what he was doing to eye him, and Junkrat could tell from the way his shoulders moved that he was getting ready to sigh in disgust. “Where’s yer arm?”

Across the room, Symmetra looked up from her work and frowned slightly at his missing limb. Junkrat lolled theatrically in his chair. “Ana flogged it.”

“Why?” Hog sounded unimpressed.

“Well, t’be fair, Hana an’ I pissed off the whole lot of ‘em this mornin’. Ana took Hana’s games an’ me arm as punishment.”

The corner of Symmetra’s lips tilted up before she turned back to her work.

Junkrat lifted his stump and sighed dramatically. “She’s made me a crippled man.” He declared, and Roadhog simply shook his head.

“Serves ya right, ya drongo.” Hog turned the page of his book and Junkrat scowled.

“Oi. Couldn’t muster up a _smidge_ of sympathy, couldja? Ya bastard.”

Roadie chuckled then, a sound from deep in his belly, and turned the page again.

Junkrat sighed in disgust and looked over at his mines. While it was possible to work one handed, it was a pain in the arse and took much longer than usual, so he preferred not to. He contemplated sneaking in to wherever Ana was and stealing his arm back, but he wasn’t sure where’d she put it, and no doubt she’d expect him to attempt to steal it back, and so would probably be guarding it. His lips curled at the thought, and Junkrat decided to do the opposite – he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she was a pain in the arse. Therefore, he needed something else to do. His gaze turned towards Symmetra, and he launched his chair across the room, rolling to a stop beside her.

“Whatcha doin’?” He asked, frowning at the tablet, where Symmetra was apparently editing the skyscraper she’d designed.

“I’m just completing the draft for the Omega proposal, and hopefully, I’ll get it submitted by at least tomorrow.” Symmetra frowned at the little hologram of her tower. “I’m nearly done. It just needs a little tweaking…” She trailed off, mumbling slightly under her breath as she rotated the tower.

“Roight.” Junkrat drummed his good fingers on the edge of her desk. He started picking up things, one after the other, and peering at them distractedly, until he reached for the pen she used with her tablet and Symmetra’s metal hand came down on his wrist, pinning him to the table.

“Oi.” Junkrat tussled with her grip for a moment and then gave up, quickly realising that much like his own prosthetic, the strength of her metal hand outstripped a normal limb.

“You are being distracting.” Symmetra turned a frown on him. “I have work to do. Go and bother Roadhog.”

There came an indignant grunt from across the room, and Junkrat giggled as Symmetra let him go.

“Y’heard Hoggie, ‘Metra. ‘M not allowed t’bother him.”

She fixed him with a hard look. “Well, you aren’t allowed to bother _me_ either. Find something else to do.”

Junkrat’s expression turned petulant as he held his stump aloft. “Can’t work with just one arm.” He muttered, and Symmetra’s frown softened.

“It was rather unfair of Ana to take your arm. She’d have been better off taking your leg. That way, it’d be easier to keep you in one place.” There was a definite tinge of humour to her voice, and Junkrat scowled.

She watched his face for a moment longer. “Very well. If you can _avoid_ being a nuisance for the next hour, we could… go for a reading lesson, if you’d like. You don’t need your arm for that.”

That sounded good to him. It would be the first lesson he’d had since Symmetra had called it quits, since she’d only approached him about restarting lessons yesterday. It had been a complete shock – he hadn’t expected it at all. And, Roadhog had been the one to convince her! What the hell he’d said to her, Junkrat had no idea. Still, he wasn’t complaining. He’d been dying to ask her when they could go for a lesson since she’d agreed to teach him again, but he hadn’t wanted to bug her in fear of scaring her off. And now she’d said they could go for a lesson! Not wanting to show too much enthusiasm, Junkrat attempted something suave. “Fair ‘nuff.”

He rode his chair back over to his workbench before she could change her mind and started looking for something to do that he could actually _do_ with only one arm; he ended up sprawled on the floor with his notebook, scribbling away, and then he absently turned to sketching small explosives and figures, and then, peering up from the workshop floor, Junkrat started to sketch Symmetra, capturing her elegant profile as she lifted her hands and spun blue light between her fingers.

He occupied himself by sketching for the whole hour, and when the clock ticked over Junkrat twitched convulsively and rolled onto his back, tilting his head back so he could see her.

“Oi.”

Symmetra turned slightly and raised a brow at his position. “Yes?”

Junkrat pointed at the clock. “‘S been an hour.”

“So it has.” Symmetra looked rather exasperated, but turned back to her tablet and shut it down. “A promise is a promise, and you behaved. Very well. Come with me.”

A self-satisfied giggled welled out of his throat, and Junkrat clambered to his feet, flashing Roadhog a cheery grin, who was watching over the edge of his book. He hadn’t forgotten that he had Hoggie to thank for convincing Symmetra to teach him again; Junkrat still wanted to know exactly what Roadhog had said to persuade her. Hog heaved an exasperated sigh as Junkrat grinned at him, and he laughed again as he followed Symmetra from the room.

She told him to go ahead while she gathered books from her room, so Junkrat set off towards the stairs that led to the rooftops, all the while frowning at the fact that she’d be following him up, so he wouldn’t get to linger behind her and watch her fantastic arse as she walked up the stairs, as was a favourite pastime of his. Punching in the code, Junkrat pulled open the door with his good hand and ambled into the cool wintery air, only to pull up short at the sight of three figures sitting on the roof meditating, just near where he and Symmetra usually sat.

Junkrat bristled at the sight of them once he realised who they were – one of the figures was floating, and all were in mediative poses. _Fuckin’ Christ – what are these tin drongo’s doin’ up here?_

“What are _you_ doing up here?” Genji’s voice was filled with scorn, and Junkrat felt his features twist.

“Could ask the same of both y’bloody tin cans.” He sneered, and Genji lifted his chin. His expression wasn’t discernible, but Junkrat knew he’d be scowling.

 Hanzo, the third member of their party, eyed him with a quiet frown.

“Genji.” Zenyatta’s robotic voice rang out, calm and quiet. “There is no need for such hostility.”

“Where’s your bodyguard?” Genji asked, ignoring Zenyatta’s rebuff. “Got no one to protect you?”

Junkrat narrowed his eyes, his hand drifting down to his pockets; He swore silently, because he didn’t have any serious firepower on him, and more than that, he only had one _hand_. He bared his teeth and went to speak, but paused as he heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Ah, here he comes.” Genji called mockingly. “Aren’t you allowed out of doors without him? What will you do when you’re both arrested? You won’t have him then.”

It took him a delicious moment to understand. “Are y’havin’ a go at me fer bein’ a criminal?” Junkrat laughed wildly. “That’s rich, mate, considerin’ what I’ve heard about yer own family.” He raised a brow. “Maybe _you_ need t’think about bodyguards.”

Genji’s voice cooled considerably. “My family is none of your concern.”

“Yeah, well, Hog ain’t any of yers.” Junkrat snapped back. His fingers twitched with the need to go and punch Genji somewhere – but the footsteps denoted a more pressing need. The footsteps were not heavy and plodding, but rather light and swift. Symmetra was approaching and if the tin cans twigged that they were up here together – Junkrat hated to do it, but he swallowed his pride, turned around, and left.

Symmetra was just reaching for the number pad by the door when he barged through it, ignoring Genji as best he could, and grabbed her wrist, before he remembered that she wouldn’t like that and dropped his hand back to his side. “Tin cans on the roof.” He muttered shortly, and set off down the stairs again, anger prickling under his skin. There was a pause, and then footsteps told him Symmetra was following him down the stairs.

“Tin cans?” She asked. “Zenyatta and Genji?”

He nodded shortly. “An’ Robin Hood.” Junkrat managed an irritable noise. “No lesson then?” He grumbled under his breath – _fuckin’ tin cans. What are they doin’ on the roof, takin’ up all the space an’ stoppin’ me lesson fer?_

“Not necessarily.” Symmetra said thoughtfully. “Follow me.”

Junkrat fell into step behind her, his gaze straying to the movement of her backside and legs as she walked down the stairs, absently enjoying the little black skirt she so often wore. The rest of his mind, however, was occupied with what she’d just said. Not necessarily? She must have some other place in mind. But where?

“Where’re we goin’?” He asked, hurrying after her.

Symmetra replied with a vague hum. “Just follow.”

She led him towards the barracks, and Junkrat began to frown in slight suspicion – was she actually…? She hesitated before the wing that led to her room, amongst others, and realisation jolted through him – she was considering taking him to her room. Before he could examine this idea properly, Symmetra turned to him, an inscrutable expression on her face.

“What kind of state is your room in?” She asked frankly, and Junkrat blinked. _Oh, shit._

“Uh…” He scratched at his cheek, trying to recall just what his room looked like at that moment. “Gotta lot of bombs.”

She raised a brow, looking severe. “Where?”

“On the shelves, on the floor. Some of ‘em, anyway.” He managed. “Could tidy up a bit…”

“Good.” Symmetra turned then, and began walking briskly down the hall where his room was to be found, leaving him to scuttle after her. She paused beside the keypad while he punched in his unlock code, glancing down the corridor as though she were worried someone might come along. Which, he reminded himself as the door slid open with a quiet hiss, she had every reason to be. Junkrat stepped aside and ushered Symmetra in, and followed her with a sense of reluctance, bracing himself for her thorough disapproval of his living space.

“Mind the traps.” He muttered, raising a hand to point them out as he hurriedly scooped the largest and most inconveniently placed of them into his arms, dumping them on his bed. He’d have to reset them all later, which was a pain in the arse, but it was better than her taking her foot off in one. He’d never come up with an excuse good enough for Mercy. Symmetra neatly sidestepped a trap and then lifted her chin, looking around.

He cringed slightly when she turned to face him with raised brows. “This is not as bad as I’d have expected.”

Junkrat gazed around his room briefly, touching on the remaining traps set about the floor for safety, the clothes and his harness scattered on the unmade bed, the piles of explosives he had stacked on the shelves above his desk and in his wardrobe, the toolbox which lay half open on the floor, screwdrivers and other bits scattered about.

“Heh. Guess not.” Junkrat dredged up a giggle which caught in his throat and quickly died. “Truth is, I ain’t in here enough t’mess it up properly. Workshop’s much better fer… y’know. Workin’.”

“A reasonable excuse.” Symmetra touched a finger to his desk (admittedly smudged with grease and oil) and then examined the digit with a frown, as though checking to see how tainted the space was. “Well, let’s begin.”

She frowned at his desk chair and Junkrat watched as she pressed the books into his arms and spun blue light between her fingers, the wireframe of a flawlessly white hard light chair popping into being on his admittedly grubby carpet. The object looked entirely out of place in his room, but now that he thought about it, watching her lower herself gracefully down, so did Symmetra. Junkrat sank into his own desk chair with a good deal less grace, folding his limbs up so he could scoot close enough to see the books she was unpacking.

Junkrat managed a slightly nervous giggle that swiftly faded as he watched her profile, fingers of his good hand smoothing over his stump in an anxious, repetitive movement. Having her in his room seemed incredibly intimidating, scary in a way he couldn’t quite identify.

“So.” Symmetra tucked her hair behind her ear before she turned to him, revealing the line of her jaw and the smooth column of her neck as she did so. “This is our first lesson in a while.”

“Ain’t by choice.” He muttered, rubbing uneasily at the stump of his arm, and Symmetra’s expression changed, her shoulders lowering. Guilt pooled in her eyes and her teeth tugged at her lower lip.

“Junkrat… I am sorry…”

He attempted a grin and waved it aside. “What’s it matter? Yer here now.”

The corner of Symmetra’s lips curved up, and it made his smile more genuine. “Yes, you’re quite right. What an optimistic way of looking at things.” She tugged a book to the surface and opened it up. “Let’s see if you’ve retained that fluidity you were achieving just before we… stopped. Read this for me, please.”

Junkrat followed her instructions quite happily; he was pleased as punch to have reading lessons again, and, having recalled her threat of cancelling lessons if he misbehaved or displeased her, was determined not to mess up. The memory of her fisting her hand in his harness to yank him down to her height was actually, if truth be told, rather a turn on. The way she’d flicked the piece of rubble off his grenade too… Symmetra rarely got that close, and never so physical, and he’d been revisiting the memory constantly for the past two days, ever since it had happened. Her manner had been threatening but also fairly suggestive (though he was positive she wouldn’t have meant that) and while Junkrat wasn’t really the type to take orders, he had a feeling he’d listen to what Symmetra could dish out.

A shiver crawled over his skin and Junkrat shook his head quickly to clear his mind of those thoughts; it’d be pretty fuckin’ horrific if he got a hard on with Symmetra in such close quarters. He pictured the look of disgust she’d no doubt give him and that was better than any cold shower, and ignoring the slightly suspicious look she was currently giving him, he continued reading.

She made him work on comprehension again, which was painful and unnecessary, though she said it was important.

“Look.” Junkrat scrunched up his nose and gestured at the page, where Symmetra was attempting to get him to understand what the bloody hell an adverb was. “Why do I gotta know this? Can’t I just _read?”_

“You may _think_ these are useless, but Junkrat, if you want to learn to write, you need to know how to properly format a sentence or else your inability to write properly will stick out like a sore thumb.” Symmetra’s tone was patient, much more patient then he’d be in her situation. “There is a method, a formula, if you will, that you need to follow or else your sentences won’t flow like a native English speaker.”

He frowned at her. “But I already _know_ how to make sentences, don’t I? Like, from talkin’ an’ shit.”

Symmetra paused before she spoke, and he could see something like amusement lurking around her lips. “I would draw your attention to the fact that your spoken sentences aren’t properly formed either.”

A frown creased his brow as he considered her words. “Oh.”

“‘Oh’ indeed.”

Thus beaten, Junkrat submitted to the rest of the lesson with ill grace, and kept mixing adverbs with adjectives, though he’d managed to get what nouns and verbs were stuck in his brain relatively quickly.

“Very good.” Symmetra said when at last he’d finished demonstrating the proper use of an adjective. “Now, on to conjunctions.”

Junkrat barely stifled a groan.

“This is _torture_.” He grumbled. “Must be what I get fer bein’ a wanted criminal.”

Symmetra smiled. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” The inflection in her tone was clear and Junkrat leaned forwards, anxious to dispel the notion.

“Nah, nah, I wanna. I wanna, it’s just painful at the moment.”

The corner of her lips hitched up. “I see. Well, there will be more punishment at hand; after conjunctions we’ll be working on syntax.”

Junkrat furrowed his brow. “Christ.”

Symmetra’s smile grew a little wider. “If you want to learn…”

“I do!”

“Then you’ll pay attention, yes?”

Junkrat cast a baleful glance at the grammar book in her hand. “Yeah.”

“Good.” A thoughtful look passed over her face. “Perhaps I should make up a sort of test, to see what you’ve retained…”

Before Junkrat could express his dismay, she’d already decided that was what she was going to do.

“Gotta say.” He mumbled. “When this first started I thought readin’ was gonna be simpler than this. Just lookin’ at the words on the page.”

That drew a laugh from her throat, slight and quiet, but a laugh all the same. “Life is full of disappointments, hmm?”

“Not really.” Junkrat bounced his peg leg as he watched her, and tapped the book in his lap for emphasis. “Lessons are happenin’ again. That ain’t a disappointment.”

Symmetra’s expression changed slightly, becoming thoughtful and intense. “No.” She said after a long moment. “I suppose not.”

Junkrat didn’t know what she was thinking, but he did know one thing – he’d bet a large amount of his stolen money that she agreed with him – he was almost positive that she didn’t think it was a disappointment either. The thought made a slight grin hitch to his lips, and Junkrat finally relaxed, his posture no longer tense as he sat beside Symmetra, a feeling of almost drowsy contentedness stealing over him, because he now had one of the things he wanted most – at long last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading lessons are back! and Junkrat is extremely happy. 
> 
> Symmetra is still conflicted, but I like to think she's the sort of woman who commits to a decision, and so now she's told Junk she'll teach him, she isn't going to back out on him again~


	30. Colder Days and Closer Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat hurts himself and Satya finds she is worried about him in ways she hadn't expected.

Satya found the workshop in complete and utter disarray when next she entered it; Torbjörn, Reinhardt, Roadhog, McCree and Tracer were sitting on the floor, surrounded by beer bottles. It appeared they’d reached the stage of drunkenness in which one is compelled to share outrageous stories; McCree was attempting to speak over Tracer as they both battled to share theirs first. Tracer was trying to tell everyone about how she’d met her girlfriend, while McCree was loudly waxing poetic about his Deadlock days. Whatever Deadlock was. Satya paused on the threshold and took in the sight, and then she spun on her heel and left again. This was not something she wished to get entangled with.

  Deprived of work, Satya decided to go outside to the cliffs and sit in the sunshine, where she amused herself by spinning wireframes between her fingers. She’d been there for perhaps half an hour when a something like a groan caught her attention. Satya paused her motions, fingers still in the air as she listened and wondered if she was imagining things, but then she heard it again, this time accompanied by a strange shuffling noise, and the clank of metal moving against metal.

She stood up, following the sound around the outcropping of rocks until she rounded the corner of the base and found a part of the cliff side not visible from anywhere else; Satya stood at the corner and peered around, her brows drawing together when she recognised who was sitting there.

Junkrat appeared to have just sat down; he was sitting against the wall, head tipped back with a tight swallow in his throat, eyes squeezed shut, his prosthetic hand clenched tightly around his elbow. Curiously enough, he was also wearing a shirt. No, not a shirt; a singlet, a ratty dark orange one that was so grubby she could hardly discern the colour. Satya took a step forward despite herself.

“Junkrat?”

His eyes snapped open, his head wrenching around to stare at her. He didn’t say anything, but his expression was so peculiar – a bizarre mix of guilt and something almost pained – that she took another step forwards. “Are you… all right?”

His gaze shot sideways and he straightened up a bit, and then his teeth clenched before they bared in what was supposed to be a smile but was closer to a grimace. “‘M fine. Cheers.”

Satya let her gaze run over his form, taking in his posture – it was odder than ever. Rather than his customary slouch, he was… tense. His body was stiff, though still hunched over, and it was unusual. His form held none of the slouchy ease with which he normally carried himself. Junkrat was watching her watching him, and she noticed the wariness of his gaze, and the fact that his fingers were drumming anxiously on the ground. All the factors that she’d noted added up to a Junkrat who was acting very strangely, and determined to find out why, she closed the distance between them and sank to the ground beside him, doing her best to ignore the grass and muck that was surely coating her slacks.

“You seem tense.” Satya led with the question and then peered over at him, measuring his reaction with unease buzzing in her blood. Junkrat stifled a giggle in the back of his throat, but it seemed wrong, almost forced; as though he knew he was supposed to laugh but wasn’t totally able to.

“Dunno whatcha talkin’ about.” Junkrat was hunching further and further over, his expression and posture entirely defensive. Satya decided it would be wise to change tack.

“Torbjörn seems to be having a party of sorts in the workshop.” She snuck Junkrat a look; he seemed confused with the subject change. “They’re all quite drunk.”

This time his laugh was more genuine, though he now had both arms wrapped around his torso, his breathing shallow. “Y’didn’t join ‘em?”

“Getting drunk on the floor is not exactly my idea of fun, though I am surprised you aren’t there, considering Roadhog is.”

“Wha-?” Junkrat looked amazed. “Hog is there?”

Satya nodded. “He is, and from the looks of things he’s put quite a dent in Torbjörn’s beer supply.”

“Why that miserable-” The thought apparently failed him, and Junkrat’s brows furrowed as he muttered darkly under his breath, and then something close to a groan hitched in his throat, though he clearly did his best to stifle it.

“Where have you been?” Satya tried the question delicately; perhaps this would be a clue as to his odd behaviour. She wasn’t used to seeing him so quiet and nervous; she was determined to get to the bottom of things. “From the sounds of it, you didn’t know about this little party?”

“Nah, I was at the testin’ range.” Junkrat’s eyes lit up. “Had some new batches t’test, some concussion mines-” He cut himself off abruptly, and his expression was something that was clearly determined not to be guilty. _Hmm_. So concussion mines had something to do with it. If memory served correctly, they were the ones he used to fling himself up in the air, so… _hmmmmm_. Satya feigned leaning back, running her eye over him again, her gaze returning once more to the singlet that was only attention grabbing because it was new.

Was there… something on his back?

“What’s that on your back?”

Junkrat started, his expression alarmed, and as he shifted, body jerking as he attempted to move away from her, a groan of something that she was now sure was pain escaped his mouth. He froze, gritting his teeth, but she’d already heard it.

Satya narrowed her eyes to cover her unease. “Junkrat.”

No response.

“ _Junkrat_.”

He giggled somewhat nervously. “Nuthin’, ‘Metra, I dunno why’re yer – um-”

Satya narrowed her eyes further, then pushed herself up on her knees, concern for whatever he’d done to himself overriding her good sense. Junkrat watched her, eyes wide.

“Uh – Symmetra-” His voice cut off when she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him forward. “Ah – shit-”

Satya ignored him in favour of gripping the neck of his singlet more tightly in her hand, dragging him forwards so his back was away from the wall.

“What have you done to yourself?”

 “I’m fine.” This was accompanied by a deep, slow inhale, as if to overcome pain, and Satya frowned at him worriedly.

“You most certainly are _not_ fine. What have you done?”

Junkrat managed a giggle that died almost before it began, and tipped his head sideways, his eyes sliding to the side. Well, if he wasn’t going to tell her, she’d find out herself. Satya moved closer, her thighs pressed against his as she lightly laid her palm on his shoulder and pushed him forwards. Junkrat groaned as he moved, his breathing uneven, and Satya stared at the dark purplish mass that extended out of his ratty singlet and over his neck and shoulders.

“What on earth did you _do?”_ Satya reached out to assess the damage; Junkrat’s breath hissed between his teeth as her fingers anxiously skimmed along his spine, pushing the ratty singlet up as she did so. The bruise stained most of his back, extending along his shoulders and down to his mid-back in painful looking splotches. He met her gaze as he twisted his head to peer over his shoulder, the motion seemingly not without effort, and Satya stilled, her fingers still lightly resting on his back. Junkrat’s gaze was intense, his molten eyes a little wide, and the tips of his ears were pink. A curious reaction, but, she reminded herself, she _was_ rather close to him. Perhaps he just hadn’t expected her to invade his personal space like this. The thought made her drop her hand, moving back a fraction so she was more in front of him instead, and watched him expectantly. Junkrat’s expression was still a little bewildered, and then he shook his head as if to clear it, which was accompanied by a wince of pain, and then he spoke.

“Concussion mine.” He admitted, words smeared by a groan, and Satya recalled her earlier question. “Fucked up while I was testin’ it.”

“And!?”

“Hit the wall.” Junkrat attempted to stretch and then convulsed as his body wouldn’t physically allow him to complete the movement. “ _Christ_ , that hurts.”

“Why are you _here?”_ Satya moved around to face him again, worry making her tone severe. “Why on earth would you come here, where no one can find you? Why not go to Angela?”

Defensiveness mingled with guilt flashed in his eyes, and he very clearly attempted to evade the question. “Why’re _you_ here?”

Satya frowned as severely as she could. “I was sitting on the rocks outside when I heard the sound of something dying. When I came to investigate, I found you. Why you have crawled here to hide like a sick dog instead of seeking medical attention is something I don’t know, but what I _do_ know is that I’m going to get Angela.”

“No, don’t get the doc.” Junkrat stared at her. “I’m fine. I don’t wanna see Merc.”

“I don’t care.” Satya said firmly. “You’re seeing a doctor and that’s all there is to it.”

“Won’t be here when ya get back.” Junkrat sounded so obstinate that Satya paused.

“Very well.” She said with a frown. “If you wish to do this the hard way, so be it.” She wove the wireframe of a shackle between her fingers, and before Junkrat could do more than widen his eyes, she had him tethered to the ground by his good ankle.

He scowled up at her. “That’s cheatin’.”

“Nonsense.” Satya rose to her feet and brushed off her slacks. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Satya strode briskly off, ignoring Junkrat’s protests, and headed towards the medibay. She found Mercy there in her office, typing something on her computer.

“Angela?” She knocked lightly on the door. “Are you busy?”

Mercy looked up, a smile turning her lips. “Satya! What a pleasant surprise.”

“Not so pleasant, I’m afraid.” Satya stepped into the room. “Junkrat has hurt himself quite badly but refuses to come here himself.”

“What’s he done?” Mercy stood up, throwing on her white coat and grabbing a bag which to the quick glance Satya was afforded appeared to contain various medical paraphernalia. 

“He’s being quite cagey but from what I gather, one of his mines malfunctioned and threw him against a wall. He can barely move and his back is terribly bruised.”

Mercy paused. “His back? Do you think he has spinal injuries?”

“I’m not sure. He seems to be in a lot of pain. His breathing is very shallow and uneven.”

Worry laced Mercy’s expression. “Where is he?”

Satya led the way, and once they reached Junkrat’s secluded corner, she stepped back to allow Mercy through. The doctor dropped to her knees beside him, ignoring all his attempts to squirm away, and then paused to stare at the shackle encircling his ankle. Satya saw Mercy’s brows rise, and stepped forwards to come to rest on her knees beside her.

“He threatened to run away before you got here. Or crawl, as the case may be.” She said by way of explanation.

Mercy’s brows rose higher. “I see.” She turned to Junkrat. “That’s very foolish, you know. What if you were seriously injured? You might still be. Hold still and tell me if it hurts.”

Satya met Junkrat’s gaze as he submitted himself to Mercy’s prodding with ill grace, a sullen look on his features as he picked restlessly at the hard light around his ankle, then lifted his chin to frown at her.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Satya said in reprimand. “This is for your own good.”

“Quite right.” Mercy agreed, now digging through her bag. She pulled out her staff and it began to glow. “Hold still, Junkrat. I don’t _think_ you have any spinal injuries, so I’ll take away enough of the pain to get you down to the medibay for an x-ray.”

This time his groan was one of annoyance, and Satya decided to distract him. “Tell me what happened to your mine. Do they malfunction like that often?”

He made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “Nope. Not often, anyway. Dunno what happened t’the stupid thing.” Junkrat’s tone changed then, the annoyance replaced by the enthusiastic note he always had when speaking about his explosives. “Charge mustn’t have set roight. Gotta see if I can salvage the casin’ an’ see what’s the go.” He hissed through his teeth then, the noise pained. “This gonna take much longer, Merc?”

“No.” She replied. “But you will have to come to the medibay right away. I’m concerned about any spinal damage, so you can’t move. Satya, would you stay with him until I get back with a stretcher?”

Satya nodded as Junkrat’s eyes bulged at the thought of a stretcher. “He’ll stay right where he is.”

“Good. I won’t be long.” Mercy got to her feet and hurried away, and Satya turned to see Junkrat looking at her mutinously.  

“I believe I said ‘don’t look at me like that’.” She said primly. “You need medical attention, Junkrat.”

He shook his head obstinately. “Coulda slept it off.”

“Ah.” Satya fixed him with a severe look. “So _that’s_ why you’ve come here, and I suppose the singlet was to the hide the bruise?”

His shifty look was all the answer she needed.

Mercy returned a few minutes later, a stretcher hovering before her, and Junkrat eyed it suspiciously. It took a few long minutes to get him properly situated on the stretcher, and then she accompanied Mercy and Junkrat back to the medibay as she discussed treatment with Mercy; she had to admit, she was curious.

Junkrat was immediately x-rayed and was found to have two fractured ribs and one broken one, along with extensive bruising. Satya lurked in a corner and watched, fascinated, as Mercy set about healing him. First, his ribs were taped up tightly, and then Mercy used a machine that hovered above a visibly uncomfortable Junkrat and bathed him in light, and from the expression that eventually appeared on his face, Satya knew that his ribs were gradually knitting back together. Next, Mercy focused on his bruises. The Caduceus staff glowed, and as it traced down Junkrat’s back, his bruises were visibly fading.

“Incredible.” Satya murmured. “Such technology… it’s quite fantastic.”

“It helps me do so much.” Mercy agreed. “I couldn’t have helped half the people that I have without it.”

“Oi.” Junkrat sounded quite indignant from where he was face down in a pillow. “Y’just in here t’stickybeak on the staff thingo?”

“Yes.” Satya had to suppress a slight smile.

“Hmph. Glad t’be of service.” He muttered.

Mercy was grinning too. “You ought to be happier, Junkrat.” She said, tracing the staff over his shoulder. “Thanks to Satya fetching me far sooner than _you_ would have, you’ll only have to stay overnight.”

His body jerked slightly. “ _Overnight_?” He sounded horrified, and Satya decided to see herself out. It wasn’t precisely necessary for her to be there. 

“Bye, Satya.” Mercy said warmly, once Satya had announced her intentions. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yes, of course. Goodbye, Junkrat, and do try not to blow yourself up again.”

There came a very pleased giggle from the pillows. “Can’t make no promises.” Came the slightly muffled words, and he sounded _delighted_. Satya shared a grin with Mercy and then she left them to it.

She ran into Hana as she was heading back to the barracks, and fell into easy conversation with her.

“So what’ve you been up to today?” Hana asked, as peppy as usual.

“I just left the medibay. Junkrat managed to blow himself against a wall and broke a few bones. I found him.”

“What! Ohmigosh – is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Mercy is fixing him up.”

“I gotta go see him!” Hana scooted off down the hall with a hurried ‘Goodbye!’, and Satya continued on her way, now becoming aware of a very curious sensation in the pit of her stomach. She frowned to herself, abruptly realising that the emotion she felt was _relief_. Junkrat could have seriously injured himself, but he hadn’t. He’d be alright after an hour or two further in Mercy’s care. Satya bit her lip at the realisation of the concern she’d felt for him when she’d realised he was hurt. Further discomfort fluttered to light when she revisited the moment – it had in no way been necessary for her to touch him. She ought to have simply gone to fetch Mercy when she’d suspected his injury, and not… _lingered,_ with her fingers on his back. There was no need for it. She was mildly horrified at herself, but more horrified at the realisation that she’d _wanted_ to touch him, to ascertain his injuries herself and make sure he was all right.

It was a sobering thought, and one she most definitely didn’t like. Satya grimaced at herself for a long moment, and then continued on. She’d had a vague plan of maybe finding Roadhog to let him know Junkrat had blown himself up, but now, having thought what she’d just thought, she ruled it out of the question. She would avoid the workshop, where they were no doubt still drinking, and go back to her room, where it was safe.

In the end, she put it down to the fact that he was a teammate, and that was the only reason she’d felt concern. If a teammate was injured, then it put the team off balance, which was something that oughtn’t be allowed, if they could possibly help it. Satya nodded firmly. Yes, that was it. That was _all_ of it. She wouldn’t allow herself to consider anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Satya is extremely stubborn and won't admit it to herself that she likes him XD tbh, she's the one putting the slow in this slow burn~ 
> 
> she's getting there though!


	31. Mullock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat finds company in an unexpected place~

Junkrat did not like the medibay.

Number one, it was too clean. Number two, there were no bombs, and Mercy wouldn’t let Roadie bring any to him. Number three, Mercy had taken his prosthetics for the night and gone and put them all the bloody way across the room, so he couldn’t get out of bed. Number four, he wasn’t _allowed_ out of bed.

Junkrat lay there and sulked, his gaze on the tv hovering before his bed but not taking anything in. He absentmindedly scratched at the stump of his arm, and then pressed curious and exploratory fingers along his ribs. It was fuckin’ amazing, actually, because his ribs had been broken, and now they weren’t. This wasn’t the first time he’d broken a rib – that time, he’d toughed it out and slept it off, finding a good place to hide with plenty of supplies and staying put until he felt able to move again. Now, barely twelve hours since he’d been flung against the wall, he felt well enough to do a jig.

Well, he would if he had his leg. Junkrat propped himself up slightly, eying his prosthetics and judging the best path to hop there. He sat up, swinging his leg to the floor, and prepared to get down, when Mercy’s voice nearly startled him into slipping.

“Junkrat! Just where do you think you’re going?”

He looked around to frown at her. “I want me arm back.” He muttered sullenly, and Mercy’s gaze softened slightly as she closed the door to her office behind her.

“Perhaps putting them so far away wasn’t very smart of me. Get back into bed. I’ll get them for you.”

Saved from hopping across the room, which he was sure would have been painful, Junkrat sank gratefully back into bed, rubbing his ribs. While technically healed, they were still tender, and given to twinges of pain if he moved too fast. Junkrat was sure hopping was a motion that would have hurt. Besides, it was only the fractured ribs that were healed completely. The one that had broken right through needed more intensive treatment, and Mercy had been required to give him several doses of that weird machine that sprayed him with light. The light mended the break, somehow, but it took several runs to mend a broken bone, as opposed to the single run for a small fracture, and he still had three doses left to endure.

It beat hiding in a shack for a month, so Junkrat wasn’t gonna complain.

Mercy arrived at his bedside then, holding both prosthetics, which she laid next to him.

“Cheers.”

He set about attaching his arm, wrapping his stump up tightly in the wrappings before sliding it into the hollow part and then tightening the straps, using both his teeth and his good hand. Mercy watched the whole time, offering her help, but he refused. Once everything was in place and the inner mechanisms had fired up, Junkrat flexed his orange fingers and then grinned at Mercy.

“That’s better.”

Mercy smiled. “I dare say.”

She headed over to a monitor beside his bed and frowned at it, apparently reading the squiggles on the screen. “You didn’t get much sleep last night.” She mused. “Only a few hours. Were you in pain? You should have called me. I could have given you something to help you sleep better.”

Junkrat shook his head. “Nah, me ribs are fine.”

Mercy frowned, tipping her head to the side as she studied him. “Then why…? Do you sleep so erratically all the time?”

Junkrat pursed his lips, unwilling to answer, but Mercy figured him out anyway.

“So you do. Would you like something? I can give you a prescription that’ll give you a full night’s sleep every night.” She peered at him closely then. “And judging from the shadows under your eyes, you need it.”

Junkrat shook his head vehemently. “No! Don’t wanna.”

Mercy regarded him curiously. “Why not? Surely this still isn’t about distrusting medicine.”

He picked at his blanket. “Nah. It’s – it’s – well, it’s like… y’know.” His voice dropped to a mumble. “If y’knock me out, how’m I gonna wake up if someone comes t’slit me throat?”

Mercy’s lips curled up into a smile. “You’re worried about being murdered in your bed?”

“It’s a valid concern.” Junkrat argued hotly. “There’s a lotta blokes who’d like t’see me dead, and gettin’ a bloke while he’s sleepin’ is definitely the easiest way t’do it.”

“I see.” Mercy’s expression turned kind then. “But Junkrat, you know that the odds of assassins getting into the base is very low? I dare say you’d be fine.”

He shook his head obstinately. “Y’never know. Thanks, but no thanks, Merc.”

“Well, my offer stands if you want to think about it in the future.” Mercy started walking towards a display of medical equipment. “Now, let’s get you checked out.”

 

* * *

 

The medibay wasn’t so bad when he had company. Roadhog had shown up late last night with McCree, Reinhardt, Torbjörn and Tracer and tow, and they’d all inquired loudly and drunkenly after his health until Mercy arrived and shooed them all away. Hana had been there before that – apparently, she’d run into Symmetra, who’d told her he’d ended up in the medibay. Junkrat picked worriedly at his blanket, because the thought of Symmetra was making him feel strange.

She’d seemed concerned. _Actually_ concerned, judging by the expression on her face when she’d seen his back. She’d even guessed why he was wearing the singlet – it was to try and hide the bruises, though he supposed it’d only really drawn her attention more.

She’d _touched_ him.

Symmetra didn’t like to be touched without warning, he knew that much. She had a very well defined bubble of personal space, and woe betide if you encroached upon it. That’s why it was such a shock whenever she reached out and touched him. She didn’t do it often, but he liked it, and yesterday had definitely been the most she’d ever touched him. She’d been on her knees beside him, pushing his singlet up to see better, her fingers lightly tracing down his spine. He remembered her touch vividly.

Her fingers had been warm and soft on the aching flesh of his back, and her touch had lingered there for a moment while she’d looked at him, _really_ looked at him, her expression worried. Worried about _him_. It was honestly one of the wildest realisations he’d ever had; people didn’t worry about him. The last people to truly worry about him were his parents, and that was years ago.

Oh, and Hog, he supposed, though Roadhog’s concern was partially motivated by more monetary values.

But Symmetra _was_ worried about him, even if it was just a bit. She’d been concerned that he’d hurt himself. Lying there in the dim ward, Junkrat grinned to himself, his tongue finding his golden tooth. Even if it didn’t mean anything on her part, he still intended to enjoy it for as long as possible.

 

* * *

 

Mercy let him out that afternoon, and though his ribs were now healed nicely, he was under strict orders not to exert himself. Once released, Junkrat promptly took himself outside, accompanied by Roadhog. He wasn’t accustomed to going long periods of time without being outside in the sun, so going out to bask in the light was officially his highest priority – and Roadhog had brought him a mine to work on, so he could work while in the sun. It was a blissful prospect.

They went to the cliff side, Roadhog sitting on the rocks while Junkrat sprawled on the grass and fiddled with his mine. His ribs were healed, yes, but there was a lingering twinge on his left side if he turned too fast, and so Junkrat stayed still as possible, preferring not aggravate them. He’d gotten several lectures from Mercy on trying to hide from medical attention, and though she’d healed him, it’d only made him more determined not to end up in the medibay again.

Something close to an hour passed, spent blissfully basking in the sun and working on his mine while chatting enthusiastically to Roadie, detailing every second of his imprisonment in the medibay, and the treatments Mercy had put him through.

It was sometime close to this that Junkrat registered a sound. He looked up at Roadhog, who was looking around with a curious air – he’d heard it too. It was… a pitiful sort of noise, almost like an animal – Junkrat realised it _was_ an animal, and pushed himself up on his knees to peer over the edge of the cliff – _there_. Down on the rocks, clinging to one for dear life as waves rushed in and out, was a cat.

Junkrat blinked.

“How the fuckin’ hell did _that_ get down there?” He asked no one in particular.

Roadhog shrugged and continued looking at the cat – a very bedraggled cat, a bright orange mangy looking tabby, sopping wet and yowling piteously as sea foam sprayed it. It must have been washed into the ocean somehow, and survived until it reached the watchpoint. Junkrat furrowed his brow – there wasn’t anywhere to go but up the sheer cliff face, and the cat would soon either die of starvation or dehydration, or be washed into the sea again and drown.

That settled it.

If there was one thing that gave Junkrat the horrors, it was the thought of drowning.

“Hog, I’m goin’ t’get that cat.” He announced.

Roadhog gave him a look full of derision that he could feel even though the mask. “Why?”

“It’s gonna drown. ‘Sides, I bet Pipsqueak’d like a cat.”

“Y’ll break the rest of ya ribs an’ Mercy’ll be pissed.”

“I’ll be fine. Now… I need a ladder or somethin’.”

Junkrat dashed off without a second thought and ran to the hanger, which was closest. He didn’t find a ladder but he found a rope, and was soon back at the cliff side, where Roadhog was waiting. They tied the rope around a study rock, and then Junkrat clambered over the side and began to abseil down. Getting down the cliff face was easy; he’d done plenty of this sort of thing while roof hopping in Sydney and various other places with Hog, and so he wasn’t worried about that. What presented a problem, however, was how he was going to get the cat back up the cliff. Junkrat sat on a slimy rock, flinching every time the salt spray from the waves hit him, and held the cat on his lap as he thought hard. He needed two hands to get back up the cliff, but he also needed two hands to hold the bloody cat.

“Y’weren’t worth this.” He muttered to the tabby in disgust. The cat meowed pitifully in response, and Junkrat cautiously rubbed its head. He knew people kept cats as pets, and maybe this one had been a pet once – though it looked a little worse for wear. “Y’ve been in the wars, mate.” He muttered, giving the tabby a once over. It was a mangy thing, fleabitten and shabby coated, with clumps of fur missing and an ear that had evidently been chewed off at one point. Its eyes were different colours too – one eye was a clear intelligent blue, and the other was cloudy and milky. Junkrat suspected it was blind – maybe in whatever fight had cost it its ear. He stroked a hand cautiously down the cat’s back, and then noticed that the tip of its tail was missing too – chopped clean off.

“Poor bastard – live a rough life an’ then drown? Fuck off.” Junkrat frowned at the cliff face, and then lifted his head to see Roadie peering down at him. “Oi! How the fuck do I get back up?” He shouted. “Need hands t’get up _an’_ t’carry the cat!”

Roadhog was silent for a long moment. “Stay there.” He replied, barely audible over the waves. “I got an idea.” He disappeared from view, and Junkrat had no choice but to wait, pressing himself as far away from the water as possible. The cat had the same idea, because once Junkrat had lifted it off the rocks, it’d clung to him with a desperation that made him certain the cat knew he was trying to save it, and that he was the mangy feline’s only hope.

“Just you an’ me now.” He muttered, rubbing the cat’s good ear. The cat tilted its head up and closed its eyes, and Junkrat grinned as the thing began to purr, even sopping wet at the base of a cliff. “Y’know when the goin’s good, ay?”

Roadhog eventually came back, and as Junkrat squinted up at the cliff top to see what his idea was, he realised Roadie had brought someone with him. Yes, there was someone else peering over the edge at him – a very familiar someone.

Symmetra.

“G’day.” He called out casually, and though he couldn’t see her expression from here, he thought from the set of her shoulders that she was exasperated as she turned and spoke to Roadie. A moment later and she raised her hands, and the bright blue of her hard light caught the sun and sparkled enough to dazzle him.

Junkrat watched in curious silence as something began to take form – she was making something that had a frame anchored on the cliff side, and had beams extending out over the waves. Symmetra paused to scrutinise the bottom of the cliff intently, and then she went back to spinning light between her fingers. A platform of some sort took shape, followed by cables that snapped into existence and fixed the platform to the frame above. She finished with a final flourish, and then, from his angle, Junkrat spotted her flip a switch on the box on the side, and then with a whir of a motor, the platform began to descend.

Junkrat whistled, impressed – she’d made a lift. An actual, working elevator, in the space of a few minutes. The platform arrived at his feet a little while later, and Junkrat clambered gratefully on board, the cat meowing the whole time. Junkrat sat in the centre of the platform, the cat held firmly on his lap, and waited as the lift started to ascend. Much like the journey down, the platform was slow to rise, and it was few minutes before he reached the top of the cliff side. Roadhog reached out and grabbed him, and lifted him from the platform to solid ground, where Junkrat occupied himself with checking out the cat and surreptitiously eyeing Symmetra as she unhitched the photon projector from her hip and began to dissolve the lift.

The cat meowed and rubbed against his hand, and Roadhog knelt at his side, examining the creature with a curious tilt to his mask. Symmetra appeared a few minutes later, kneeling with a sympathetic look on her face.

“Poor little thing.” She breathed, holding out her hand for the cat to sniff. The cat sniffed her, rubbed its head against her hand briefly, and then turned back to him. Junkrat began to scratch under its chin absently as she continued. “How nice of you to rescue it.”

“Drownin’ ain’t fun.” Junkrat said shortly. “Whether yer human or not.”

She nodded. “Certainly not.” Symmetra tilted her head. “He really needs to see a vet. Those wounds don’t exactly look pleasant, old or not.”

Junkrat hummed thoughtfully. “Y’reckon Merc’d do?”

Symmetra’s lips curved. “Why not?”

She stood fluidly, and Junkrat scrambled to his feet as well, the still soaking wet cat content to sit in his arms. Now that the excitement of the rescue was over, Junkrat became conscious of a dull ache in his ribs. He was quite sure abseiling down the cliff to rescue a cat would fall under Mercy’s definition of ‘exertion’.

“Thanks fer makin’ the lift.” He said to distract himself, and Symmetra’s smile widened a fraction.

“Roadhog said you’d fallen off a cliff-” Junkrat turned to glare at Hoggie, who seemed amused. “-so naturally I had to come to the rescue.” She gave the cat a quick pat. “I’ve work to do, so I’ll see you later. Good luck with the cat.”

Symmetra disappeared back into the base, and Junkrat turned to narrow his eyes at Roadhog. “‘ _Fell off a cliff!?’_ ”

Roadhog shrugged. “Had t’think of somethin’ t’make her come. C’mon.”

They found Mercy in the medibay, doing something with her lab coat on and goggles covering her eyes, and so they knocked on her door and waited. She opened it up a few moments later, and looked both surprised and pleased to see them.

“Junkrat and Roadhog, come in! Your ribs aren’t paining you?” She inquired, then pulled up at the sight of the cat in his arms.

“Nah, I’m good. Now, I know yer a people doctor an’ not a cat doctor, but I found it at the bottom of the cliffs.” Junkrat set the sopping cat down on the table, where it meowed and tried to rub against his torso. “Nearly drowned.”

“At the bottom of the cliff?” Mercy approached, eyeing the cat thoughtfully. “Poor thing…. he must have ended up in the ocean somehow.” She looked up. “How did you get him?”

Junkrat shrugged nonchalantly. “Eh, y’know. Climbed down the cliff.”

Mercy looked alarmed and then severe. “ _Junkrat_. You broke three ribs yesterday.”

“I know! An’ I’m fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Come here.”

Junkrat backed away, to which the cat protested. “The cat! Check the cat first.”

“Hmm.” Mercy narrowed her eyes but acquiesced.

The tabby eyed her cautiously as she approached, and then vehemently objected to when she tried to examine its wounds.

“Well.” She exclaimed at the sweaty end of a long attempt to inspect the cat. “He’s a boy, I know that much.”

Junkrat nodded, satisfied. “What about his ear? An’ his eye?”

Mercy removed her gloves and dropped them into a bin. “They’re old wounds, and they appear to have healed decently well. He doesn’t have any signs of infection, that I can tell. I think he’ll be fine – he’s probably been partially without his sight for years and has learned to manage without it.”

Junkrat scratched behind the cat’s one ear. “That’s good.”

“Now all there is to do is get him dry.”

Junkrat picked up the cat and went to leave.

“Not so fast, young man.”

He sighed as Mercy cornered him. One thorough examination of his ribs later, Junkrat was finally released, and skulked out of the medibay. Once in the hallway, he cheered up, and walked alongside Roadhog to the workshop.

Once they arrived, Junkrat set the still damp and shivery cat on his workbench and pulled out his phone, and passed it to Roadhog so he could text Hana. Torbjörn and Symmetra had both looked up as they arrived, and they both approached the cat.

“Where have you gotten this miserable looking creature?” Torbjörn squinted at the cat, who hissed. The engineer recoiled and blinked. “Not a very friendly thing, is it?”

“He’s just nearly drowned, so I reckon he’s entitled t’be grumpy.” Junkrat stroked the cat’s head. “How d’ya reckon we can get him dry?”

“Put him out in the sun.” Torbjörn suggested.

“Might run away.” Roadhog grunted.

Symmetra looked thoughtful. “A heat lamp would do the trick.”

Junkrat nodded in agreement. “Perfect! Now where the bloody hell do I get one of those?”

“I can craft one.” She offered. “Give me a moment to find the blueprints.”

Hana arrived then, with Lúcio, Mei, Tracer and McCree in tow, all of whom looked very interested to see the cat there.

Junkrat found himself the centre of attention as he described the Great Cat Rescue, while Symmetra looked up the blueprints for a heat lamp and then crafted it. When the lamp was complete, it was put on his desk and turned on, and Junkrat set the cat underneath it. The cat purred loudly, face raised to the heat, and then he sat down and started licking himself.

“Poor little kitty.” Hana cooed, trying to pat the cat, but he kept turning away from her to lick his crotch.

“Ugly thing, innit?” Tracer remarked, arms folded. “Been in the wars.”

“That’s what I said.” Junkrat grinned at the cat, who was now lying on his back, paws in the air as he warmed his belly under the lamp and tried to lick his fur clean.

“Very ugly.” McCree agreed. “Whatcha gonna do with it?”

Junkrat shrugged. “Dunno. Anyone want it?”

The cat chose that moment to get up, stretch luxuriously, and rub his head against Junkrat’s prosthetic hand, which he had resting on the bench.

“Aww!” Cooed Hana. “He likes you!”

Junkrat scratched the cat under his jaw for a moment. “I don’t want him.” He said, eying the thing dubiously.

“I think he wants you.” Mei said, a smile in her tone. The cat meowed as if to agree.

He frowned. “What am I gonna do with a cat?”

“Feed him, for a start.” Said Symmetra. “He must be hungry.”

Junkrat attempted to protest but found himself shut down when the still damp cat climbed into his lap and purred loudly.

“Aw.” Said Mei. “He does like you! He owns _you_ now, Junkrat.” She and Tracer giggled, and Junkrat glowered at them all as he put the cat back on the bench.

“Whatever. He prob’ly won’t stay, though. He’s pretty wild lookin’. Prob’ly feral.”

“You can feed ‘im till ‘e does go.” Tracer suggested.

He glowered at the cat for a moment. “ _Fine_.”

“What are you going to name him?” Hana asked. “I’d call him _Hyungteo_ , because of his scars.”

Junkrat blinked at her. “Uh, dunno if I’d call him somethin’ I can’t pronounce.”

Hana giggled.

Lúcio grinned. “Call him Junkcat!”

That made everyone laugh, but Junkrat scowled. “Ain’t gonna call him that.”

Hana elbowed Lúcio. “Call him something in Portuguese.” She suggested, and Lúcio thought for a moment.

“ _Feio_.” He snickered, and Junkrat narrowed his eyes.

“What’s that mean?”

“Ugly.” Lúcio started laughing then.

Hana turned to Mei. “Mei! Mei! What would you call him?”

Mei deliberated for a long moment. “Hmm. I’d call him… _Zhànshì m_ _ā_ _o_.” She chuckled. “He looks like it for sure!”

Hana tuned to Symmetra then. “Symmetra! Name him something!”

Symmetra considered for a moment. “Well… I don’t know. perhaps _B_ _ā_ _g_ _ā_ _Dharist_ _ā_ _ru_ , if we’re being silly.”

Junkrat frowned at them all – he just _knew_ they were giving the cat stupid names, despite the fact he didn’t have a bloody clue what they were saying. “Ain’t gonna name him anythin’ if he’s gonna up an’ leave.” He said testily.

“True!” Tracer said, bouncing forward to try and pat the cat. “‘E’s not very friendly. ‘E must only like you ‘cause you rescued him.”

“Prob’ly.”

Before long, the whole base knew he’d acquired a cat. The tabby, now dry after basking for a few hours under Symmetra’s heat lamp, had taken to exploring the workshop, and if Junkrat left, like he had a few times, the cat followed him.

Even at dinner time, the cat had followed, trotting down the hall, his damaged tail up in the air as he meowed as if to say ‘wait for me!’. He sat on the table next to Junkrat at dinner, much to Mercy’s displeasure, and stole a sausage off his plate. After that, Junkrat began to like the cat much more – he was a proper thief, and an amputee, and he reckoned they were pretty alike, for a cat and a human. He decided that, while he was at the watchpoint, and if the cat stayed, he wouldn’t mind keeping him around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really like the idea of Junkrat having a stupid cat to follow him around ok
> 
> it's really cute


	32. Undeniable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya has an awkward encounter with Junkrat which leads her to have a realisation about something she's been denying for a while.

 “Oooh, I like that dress.”

Satya looked in the direction Mercy was pointing and took in the sight of a pretty floral concoction. It was nice, but not at all to Satya’s taste.

“It’s lovely, but where would you wear it?”

Mercy shrugged, reaching out to finger the fabric lightly. “I’ve got no idea. Perhaps I can wrangle up some sort of nice outing soon.”

“Hmm.” Satya made a non-committal noise; social outings were exactly the type of thing she was supposed to be avoiding, even if she’d decided she could talk to people. She couldn’t be _too_ social. Vishkar didn’t want that.

Mercy picked up on the direction of her thoughts. “But I suppose you would concoct some sort of excuse as to why you couldn’t come?”

Satya started slightly; she hadn’t expected such a straightforward question. “I – well, that is, yes, I would.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, Angela, I really am, but-”

“I know, I know.” Mercy flashed her a knowing yet sympathetic look. “Vishkar. It’s a shame though. We all enjoy your company.”

Satya looked down at her hands, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you.” She said at last.

“Ah, I should go there next.” Mercy nudged her in the direction of a lingerie shop. “I need a new bra like nobody’s business.”

“I should hope it was nobody’s business.” Satya quipped, and they both shared a laugh before entering the pleasantly vanilla scented shop.

Mercy went straight to the sports bras, flicking through the colours and options with a frown on her face as she searched for her size, and her attention was soon taken up by a shop assistant. Satya lingered a few shelves away, peering at the colourful displays of lace and other nice fabrics. She hadn’t _intended_ to come into town with Mercy, but a pressing need to drop one of her uniforms off to a seamstress for repair had coincided with Mercy’s need for another errand, so they’d come down together to drop off their respective items and had then ducked into the nearby shopping centre to grab a few things.

Satya mentally examined her underwear drawer, trying to figure out if she should replenish her collection while she was in here waiting for Mercy. After a moment or two, she decided she could always simply treat herself to a nice new set of something a little extravagant – she liked to occasionally buy herself something with a little touch of luxury. Therefore, it was with a sense of purpose that she resumed poking about through the displays, looking for something nice.

She found it when she rounded a corner and came face to face with a collection of mannequins modelling their wares. Two of the three wore gaudy corset style lingerie, one in bright red and the other in white; not at all her style. The other, the one that had caught her attention, was clad in a brasserie and matching thong of black lace; elegant in its simplicity. Satya found she liked it immensely… and liked it even more when she took in the matching lace topped thigh high stockings. She bit her lip and peered at the price tag; it was expensive, as expected, but not all together out of her budget. She reached out and stroked the lace of the thigh highs and chewed on her lip thoughtfully; should she?

“Ooh, are you going to get that?”

Satya turned to find Mercy moving to her side, two sports bras in hand.

“I’m considering it.” Satya took a moment to reflect on how strange Overwatch was, how well they blurred the lines; if this were Vishkar, she’d never in a million years go underwear shopping with a co-worker.

“It’s gorgeous.” Mercy’s smile turned sly. “Got anyone to wear it for?”

Satya laughed out loud. “Gods, no. I just happen to enjoy nice underwear.”

“Well, it’s certainly _nice_.” They both laughed at Mercy’s inflection on the last word.

“Yes, but it is expensive.” Satya turned the price tag towards her. “A bit much for something that, as you say, won’t be seen by anyone else.”

“Ah, go on. Get it! You only live once, and every woman deserves sexy lingerie.” Mercy winked exaggeratedly, and they laughed again.

“Well, maybe…” Satya touched the lace again, smiling despite herself as Mercy egged her on. She wouldn’t have quite guessed Mercy to be the type to encourage the purchase of expensive lingerie, but perhaps she didn’t know her well enough to be sure. Part of her recognised that was a good sign – she was remaining impartial and aloof. Another part of her was a tiny bit sad – she’d lived with these people for months but still didn’t really know them. The rest of her was still taken by the lingerie. “All right. I’ll get it.”

“Yes!” Mercy smiled widely then motioned her in the direction of the counter, where the shop assistant was waiting. One fitting later, Satya was walking out the door with her new lingerie wrapped in scented tissue paper inside a heavy bag – the shop was not an inexpensive one by any means. She made the purchase with her personal card; she doubted Vishkar would be happy to see lingerie listed as a business expense.

“I’m parched.” Mercy frowned around at the nearby shops. “Do you want to get something to drink before we head back?”

That sounded good to Satya, so they began searching for a suitable café. Having left the shopping centre, they walked down the street in the hopes that they might find something nice and cosy, something not too busy. They were just passing a bookshop when Mercy stopped and pointed ahead at a nearby jewellery store, where the surprising sight of Roadhog met them; he was leaning against the wall outside the shop, evidently waiting for something. Or some _one._

“Look, there’s Roadhog.” Mercy said, turning to Satya. “I didn’t know he’d be here. I wonder if he’s on his own?”

A second later the doors burst open and a lanky blond lunatic escaped in a hurry. Satya blinked as a portly man with a neatly trimmed moustache came barging out the shop door and began loudly threatening Junkrat in Spanish, poking a finger into his chest and proclaiming that if Junkrat ever stepped foot into his establishment again, he’d have him arrested, and all the while Junkrat was arguing with him equally loudly in English, plainly without a single clue of what the shop owner was saying. Finally, Roadhog grunted in annoyance, a sound clearly audible even from their distance, and shoved Junkrat back behind him.

There was a short silence as the little Spanish man stared up at Roadhog, taking in his immense stature, then clearly thought the better of things and went back into his shop, slamming the door behind him. Satya very clearly saw Roadhog’s shoulders move as he heaved a sigh, and then Junkrat edged around to stand in front of him, and was very obviously attempting to defend himself. Roadhog slapped Junkrat on the shoulder, not hard, but the force was still enough to send the smaller Junker stumbling back a step, and then they headed off down the street.

“Come on.” Mercy said, tugging at Satya’s sleeve. “Let’s catch them.”

Satya pursed her lips and attempted to waylay her – running errands with Mercy was one thing, but meeting the _Junkers_ in a social (and public!) setting was something Vishkar would wholeheartedly disapprove of. She’d made up her mind – conversing with them at the base was allowable, but here, in public, it was not. Despite her protests, Mercy was already moving, and so Satya had no choice but to follow. Junkrat and Roadhog evidently had some destination in mind; it turned out they were headed towards an open market where stalls were set up, displaying small wares and winter vegetables.

Satya followed along with Mercy, and they both watched in disapproval as Junkrat blatantly shoplifted, slipping things like chocolate bars and things too small for them to discern into his pocket. Irritated at his thieving ways, Satya took the lead, quickly crossing the market to position herself with folded arms behind Junkrat as he perused a table full of homemade cakes. While the stall owner was busy helping another customer, he slipped a small cake into his hand and then pocket with a motion that looked too much like the sleight of hand tricks she’d seen used on the streets of Hyderabad, and then he turned around and jumped nearly a foot in the air.

“ _Christ_ , Symmetra-” Junkrat staggered back a step, looking both awkward and guilty as he dragged his good hand through his hair. “Uh… how long have y’been standin’ there?”

“Are you intending to pay for that?” She responded; that should answer his question.

Junkrat’s eyes widened; he knew he’d been caught.

“Uh… sure am. Just… hang on a tic.” He turned back to stall owner, the cake suddenly back in his hand. He certainly had deft fingers. Mercy arrived at her side while Junkrat paid for the cake, and then he turned back around, only to jump again.

 _“Mercy?_ The hell-” Junkrat straightened up out of his slouch, scanning the marketplace suspiciously.

“What on earth are you doing?” Asked Mercy, and he frowned.

“Checkin’. Who else is gonna sneak up on me?”

“No one.” Satya lifted a brow at him. “Mercy and I were running errands and happened to spot you.”

“You’ve been stealing, Junkrat.” Mercy said disapprovingly. “Where’s Roadhog?”

Junkrat grinned, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Over at the books. Said he was gonna try floggin’ some of them.”

“What! Roadhog is shoplifting too?” Mercy exclaimed, and Junkrat’s grin widened.

“ _Oooh_ , don’t tell me ya didn’t think Hoggie flogs shit!” Junkrat leaned down and whispered confidentially at them. “He’s worse than me, y’know. I’m just more noticeable, ‘parently.”

Satya nodded. “It’s the laughing that gives _you_ away.”

Junkrat nodded thoughtfully, cracking his jaw as he did so. “ _Ouf_ , that’s the spot – roight, I see yer point. Gotta learn t’shut me gob when nickin’ wallets!” He broke into a raucous peal of laughter that made Satya cringe with how many stares swung in their direction. “Hahaha – I’m kiddin’ – I know how to flog wallets.” His grin was self-satisfied and far too joyous, and Satya frowned at him. She thought she saw the edge of his smile tremble.

“Come on.” Mercy said with disapproval in her tone. “Let’s find Roadhog and then you two are coming with us.”

“Aw, c’mon Merc!” Junkrat protested yet fell into step beside them anyway. “Dontcha trust me?”

“Not in the slightest.” Mercy replied, but she was smiling, and Junkrat continued that hyena-like cackling. Satya on the other hand was walking silently with a sinking feeling in her stomach. What if there were any Vishkar agents in Gibraltar today? What if she was seen shopping with Mercy (sort of allowable) and Roadhog (not allowable) and Junkrat ( _definitely_ not allowable)? Satya didn’t want to entertain the consequences, so she shook the thought away and prayed that they would hurry.

“How are your ribs?” Mercy continued, and Satya looked up to see Junkrat’s response. He’d only been released from the medibay yesterday, and disapproval flowed through her about the choices he’d made – first to go abseiling to rescue a cat, and then to come down to the town rather than rest.

“M’fine.” Junkrat bounced a little. “Good as new, see?” He rapped on his ribcage with his knuckles, beaming at them both.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Mercy said warmly. “And how is your cat?”

Junkrat’s grin stretched wider, if it were possible, and Satya smiled a little herself at the thought of Junkrat’s most recent acquisition.

“He’s fine. Sleepin’ on me bed, or he was when I left.”

Mercy looked amused. “It’s rather sweet how he’s so attached to you now.” Her attention was abruptly caught elsewhere. “Oh look.” Mercy motioned towards a book stall where true to Junkrat’s words, Roadhog was pawing through a book display.

“Oi Hog!” Junkrat called out, catching the other Junker’s attention. Roadhog looked around and Junkrat didn’t bother saying anything else - he simply jerked his thumb in Satya and Mercy’s direction.

Roadhog’s shoulders moved in what she was sure was a sigh, and then he moved towards them.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked, voice deep and muffled by his mask. Junkrat giggled in response.

“‘Metra caught me floggin’ shit.” He sang out, and then his tone lilted upwards with humour. “Guess I’m _in_ shit now.”

“You certainly are.” Mercy said, folding her arms. “ _Both_ of you. Why do you feel the need to steal things? Do you feel you’re underpaid?”

Junkrat giggled wildly, his tongue hitching up around a golden tooth. “Why buy it when ya can flog it? ‘Sides, don’t wanna waste me hard earned dosh.”

Satya frowned. “You’re aware that the _purpose_ of money is to buy goods, yes? If you never spend it on anything, what’s the point in having it at all?”

Junkrat lifted a finger and opened his mouth, but words apparently failed him and he frowned, obviously thinking things over. Eventually, he replied rather sullenly. “Don’t do that.”

Satya raised a brow. “Do what?”

“Use logic an’ shit. Don’t like it.”

Mercy laughed as Satya raised her brow higher.

“I think you’re fighting a losing battle there, Junkrat.” She said teasingly, and Satya frowned at her too. “Come on.” Mercy continued. “Satya and I were going to get coffee, but seeing as you two are no longer allowed out of doors without proper adult supervision, you can come too.”

Satya’s heart sank. “Angela.” She attempted to whisper surreptitiously. “I really don’t think-”

“You’ll be fine. Just tell them it’s a business conference or something.”

Satya frowned as she followed Mercy, barely noticing as Junkrat fell into step beside her, ignoring him as he frequently glanced towards her. She highly doubted Vishkar would accept ‘business conference’ as an excuse.

They reached a small little café that caught Mercy’s eye and headed in – Mercy made Junkrat and Roadhog go and find a table while she and Satya ordered. Satya did so reluctantly, hoping that they could get through their drinks quickly and return to the base before anyone saw them. It wasn’t so much that she would be required to hold a conversation with the Junkers – it was that they might be _seen_.

Mercy led the way through the cramped little café towards the table the Junkers had chosen – Satya was pleased to find they’d picked one with booth seats sturdy enough to support Roadhog tucked up at the back of the shop, and it would be difficult for any passers-by to see them, which pleased her. Mercy waved her ahead, so Satya went ahead and sat down against the wall, directly across from Roadhog, while Mercy sat down in the aisle seat across from Junkrat, who was fiddling with the salt shaker.

Abruptly, Roadhog hit Junkrat on the shoulder, making the smaller Junker jump and scowl.

“Oi, the _fuck_ -”

“Get up.” Roadhog rumbled, jerking his head in the direction of the bathroom.

Junkrat realised what he wanted and stood up to let his friend pass, though with a fair amount of grumbling, and Satya occupied herself with settling the bags containing her purchases on the bench seat beside her. When Roadhog returned from the bathroom, he grunted irritably at Junkrat.

“Shove over.”

Junkrat acquiesced with an irritated noise and scooted over so he was now sitting directly across from her – he took the salt shaker with him, continuing to play with the lid. It was the automatic dispensing kind, and he appeared to be – well, Satya had no idea what he was doing. He made a small noise of glee in the back of his throat as he fiddled some more and the dispenser made a small click, and then Junkrat’s noise quickly morphed into something low and displeased when the shaker proceeded to pour salt all over both him and the table.

Mercy sighed. “ _Honestly_ , Junkrat.”

Satya watched him with something close to amusement as he put the salt shaker up and attempted to defend himself – the words trailed off when he noticed her expression.

“Oi. Y’laughin’ at me?” His expression changed – it went from amusement to something deeper, a little disgruntled, as though he genuinely didn’t like the thought of her laughing at him. Satya let her lips tilt further – it wouldn’t hurt to put him in his place. Just a little.

“Most certainly.”

“Oh.” Junkrat appeared to puzzle over her words – he hunched down more, the bones in his neck audibly cracking as he tilted his head, brows furrowed. “Why _certainly?”_ He asked, confusion evident in his tone.

Satya exchanged a look with Mercy. “Because you are like a small and overly enthusiastic child.” She said, grinning at the now mildly affronted look on Junkrat’s face. “One that can’t keep his hands to himself.”

Junkrat frowned harder, looking to Roadhog as if for help. “I ain’t a child.” His voice was a little sullen now, like he was sulking at the thought.

“I didn’t say you were. But your attitude and your _enthusiasm_ is certainly childlike.” Satya turned to Mercy. “Don’t you think?”

Mercy nodded. “You remind me of my little nephew.” She said to Junkrat, laughter in her tone. “Couldn’t keep his grubby little fingers out of where they don’t belong if he tried.”

Junkrat frowned balefully. “Yer gangin’ up on me.”

“Not at all.” Satya said smoothly. “If that were so, Roadhog would have agreed with us.”

Roadhog said nothing but chuckled deeply, which only increased Junkrat’s suspicion that they were teasing him. Out of the corner of her eye, Satya registered Mercy looking from her to Junkrat and then to Roadhog with an inquiring raise of her brow, to which Roadhog inclined his head slightly. Satya would have puzzled over this bizarre and seemingly meaningless exchange further when Roadhog got to his feet.

He grunted something vague in Junkrat’s direction that Satya missed because she was distracted by Mercy’s peculiar expression, and then he looked at Mercy for a long moment, and then left.

“‘Course he’s gotta get more food.” Muttered Junkrat, glee in his tone, and Satya unknit her brows; Roadhog was getting food. That explained things. The drinks were decent and the conversation was polite and nothing further, until Mercy looked up with an exclamation.

“Oh! I’ve just remembered – I won’t be a minute. Stay and enjoy your coffee – I’ll be back soon!” Mercy all but called the words over her shoulder as she scurried off, and Satya stared after her confusedly.

“…She’s in a rush.”

The comment delivered in an Australian accent abruptly reminded her that since Roadhog wasn’t back, Mercy _abandoning_ her like this meant that she was effectively having coffee, _alone_ , with Junkrat. Well, tea, technically. Still, the concept was the same and therefore, alarming.

“Yes, she is.” Satya cleared her throat and looked down at her masala chai. “I can’t think why – I thought she said she’d done everything she needed to do.”

“Guess she forgot.” Junkrat shrugged and took another swig of his mocha, and then the way he leaned back drew her eye to his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed. As Satya pulled her gaze away, she noticed Mercy speaking to Roadhog in front of the café windows, before they both headed in opposite directions.

“Mm, this is good stuff.” Junkrat gave a satisfied sigh and set his coffee cup back down on its saucer with a rattle. “Ain’t never really had chocolate in coffee before.”

Satya raised a brow. “Have you not? I’d have thought with your sweet tooth, you’d be a fan.”

Junkrat laughed, leaning forwards and planting his elbows on the table. “True, true, but I prefer tea, t’be honest.”

Satya quietly replaced her own cup on its saucer. “I feel the same. I find tea to be much more palatable to regular consumption.”

He made an evasive noise in the back of his throat. “I guess. I like tea ‘cause it ain’t so bitter.” He eyed his mocha with bright eyes. “Like the chocolate in this, but.” Junkrat’s head shot up then. “Oi, y’know what this is?”

Satya raised a brow. “What?”

Junkrat motioned at their cups. “Coffee. Finally got ‘round to it, eh?” There was giggling humour in his tone, and it took her a moment to figure out what he meant.

“Do you mean Austria?”

Junkrat nodded, then made a show of peering around at the café patrons. “Reckon there’s any Talon blokes in here?”

“I doubt it.” Satya stirred her chai slowly, reflecting on his words. It was strange to think of; when they had been going to get coffee in Austria, she had all but been content to call him a friend – and then the Belvedere disaster had occurred and she’d cut all contact off. It was a little startling to compare her behaviour towards him to then and now. “Almost friends and back again.” She didn’t realise she’d spoken out loud until Junkrat’s eyes darkened, his face settling into serious lines as he leaned forwards.

“So, uh… about that.” Junkrat’s metal fingers convulsed around his spoon and he started tapping again, almost annoyingly loud. “What’s the go?”

Satya raised a brow. She hadn’t quite noticed that she was leaning forward a fraction, her body angled towards his. “The go?”

“Friends…” His tapping upped a notch, drawing looks from the patron at the next table. “Or no?”

Satya took a sip of her tea. “Hmm.” She reached out and laid her hand over his, her prosthetic fingers stilling his. “Friends, I think.”

Junkrat’s eyes flew wide and his jaw slackened slightly, the tips of his ears pink. He’d gone utterly still beneath the touch of her hand, and when she withdrew it, he remained motionless. She realised that while her intention had been to get him to stop tapping, with the context of their conversation, it could have looked a little differently. Satya put it out of her mind and then regarded him carefully, planning her next words. After all, this was something she’d been thinking over carefully for the past week.

“You saved my life in Siberia.” She took a sip of her chai. “I could say I was merely indebted to you, but I think that sounds a little cold.” Satya took another sip. “After thinking about it, I couldn’t find any co-workers at Vishkar who would risk their life for me like you did. So. I’ve more or less decided it would be very rude of me to continue on the way I had. Not to mention, I have agreed to teach you again.” She had a thought then. “But Vishkar mustn’t find out.”

Junkrat nodded, a broad grin on his face, gold teeth winking. It drew her attention, and she tilted her head and rather impulsively asked him. “How did you lose those teeth?”

His grin got wider and he looked away with a brief giggle in his throat, then leaned forwards, planting his arm firmly on the table, the other raised in readiness to gesticulate according to the story he was obviously about to tell. Junkrat tapped one golden tooth and his grin turned crooked. “Was floggin’ some shit coupla years back. He caught me an’ didn’t take too kindly t’some kid nickin’ his shit.” Junkrat paused, looking puzzled. “Wait. That _was_ this tooth, yeah? Hang on-” He proceeded to mumble to himself for a minute.

“Junkrat.” Satya prompted when he didn’t fill her in on the key details. “Who were you stealing from?”

“Revhead, o’course.” He gave her a funny look. “Who else?”

She barely withheld a sigh of annoyance. “You didn’t say.”

“Roight. Got away after he belted me upside the head though. Knocked me tooth out. Lucky, really. He woulda killed me, no worries.” This was punctuated with a high pitched laugh, though Satya found it the opposite of a laughing matter.

“Then why on earth were you stealing from him?”

Junkrat’s grin turned a little sly. “‘Cause of the gunpowder, ‘course.”

“Gunpowder.” Satya raised a brow. “Why were you stealing gunpowder from him?”

“T’make bombs.” Junkrat giggled again, his whole body moving with it, shoulders hunching and fingers curling with glee. “I was littler then – just startin’ out.”

She raised a brow. “Little? This man hit a _child?”_

Junkrat nodded, seemingly unconcerned. “Well, like, not _real_ little, but. I dunno –maybe fourteen? Somewhere ‘round there.”

“Reprehensible act.” She murmured, and Junkrat grinned.

“T’be fair, I was floggin’ all his shit.”

“Mmm. So why are you in town?” She inquired, deciding to change the subject. She hadn’t really expected anything other than his violent and criminal ways being the cause of his gold teeth – thus validated, she moved on. Satya wasn’t sure what to think about how easy it was to fall into conversation with him – she’d been sure it would take a long time to rebuild what they’d had before Vishkar’s edict and their fight, but Junkrat seemed like he’d forgotten it’d ever happened, and so, now that she was giving him reading lessons again, she’d decided to take her cues from him. Though… why was she even considering this? She should not be interested in rebuilding anything with him. She frowned inwardly – this was something that would apparently take more than her usual discipline to overcome, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why.

“Eh, breath of fresh air.” Junkrat leaned back in his chair, drawing her attention, prosthetic fingers moving in restless patterns over the table while his good hand threaded behind his ear and into his hair. “Been stuck in the medibay fer _ages_. Wanted t’get out of the base fer a tic.” He raised his brow in a clear indication that he wanted to hear why she was here as well.

“Mercy and I had errands to run.” Satya took another sip of her drink and stirred it absently. “She had a parcel to drop off and you know my clothing was ruined in Siberia, and so I’ve needed to repair or replace it. We decided to do a little shopping while we were here.”

“Yeah?” Junkrat leaned forwards. “Whadidja get?”

She was too late to stop him – he reached all the way across the table and tilted her bags back, brow furrowed intently as he read the label on the one at the front.

“What’s lingerie?” He asked, pronouncing it like _ling-ga-ree._ Satya closed her eyes in utter mortification then snatched the bag from his hand lest he accidently get a glimpse inside. _Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no._

“It’s – it’s-” The hot burn of chagrin flushed through her cheeks, and she scrabbled for something to say that wouldn’t make her melt from sheer embarrassment. “It’s pronounced _lingerie_.”

Junkrat’s brows drew together and he regarded the bag in her hands carefully, evidently completely oblivious to the fact he had been holding her new underwear in his hand – her new confection of silk and lace and matching stockings, which made it far worse than if they were merely utilitarian cotton undies.

 _“Lingerie?”_ He said, pronouncing it correctly this time, though it was strangely muddled through the harsh twang of his accent. “How? It’s got _I’_ s in it.”

 “It’s French.”

Junkrat still looked confused. “But it’s got _I’_ s in it-”

“You’d do best to ignore it, really. French and English don’t play by the same rules.” She attempted to make this into something of a reading lesson to distract herself from the fact that Junkrat was really asking her what _lingerie_ was. “If you try to worry about French pronunciation while still learning English, you’ll confuse yourself.”

“Well, that’s stupid.” Junkrat scowled at the bag in her hand. “So what is it?”

She bit her lip and didn’t respond. _Oh no, oh no, oh no._

“‘Metra?” Junkrat whistled a brief tone and waggled his metal hand before her face. “Oi, what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. That is – it is simply a personal purchase.” Satya hesitated – surely that’d be enough to satisfy him.

Junkrat, however, had other plans. His head tilted curiously as he leaned forwards, his hunched posture meaning he was much closer than he would be if he would just sit up straight like a regular person. “…Personal as in private, or personal as in ya just don’t wanna say?”

Satya pursed her lips and regarded him, then steeled her nerves. The quicker she got this over and done with the sooner they could move on to another topic. “Both.” She said shortly, attempting to arrange her most severe expression on her face.

Junkrat’s gaze moved slowly over her features, and Satya was positive she was feeling overheated due to mortification _only_.

“Are y’ _blushin’?”_

Satya met his gaze, startled, then looked away. _Oh no, oh no, oh no._ “No.” She said through gritted teeth, all the while inwardly panicking – she wasn’t actually _blushing_ , was she?

Junkrat shrugged casually, seemingly unaware of her inner turmoil. “Y’cheeks are all red.”

“It’s my tea. It’s very hot.” She blatantly lied, hoping he would take it as a reasonable excuse.

Junkrat’s head tilted. “Y’were drinkin’ it just fine before.” He noted, and she inwardly cursed whatever was making him so perceptive this afternoon. “What _is_ lingerie?” He asked again.

Satya thought furiously, trying to find a reasonable answer that would satisfy his curiosity and yet not tell him the truth. The thought of Junkrat knowing the particulars of her _underwear_ was giving her heart palpitations, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks – this was _awful_.

Then, so desperate was she to get the matter over and done with, her tongue rather ran away with her. “It’s underwear.” She said, then blanched when she realised what she’d just said. Junkrat froze, his expression a little stunned.

“ _Oh_.” He croaked, and then he looked away, dragging a hand through his hair as he became very invested in a painting on the wall. A very nervous giggle reached her ears, and Satya was about ready to melt from sheer mortification when he turned back to her suddenly, as though he couldn’t keep the words in. “Why the hell ain’t _that_ on the bag?” He demanded. “Bloody hell – save a lot of confusion over that French bullshit!”

Satya peeked up at him. “Actually, it is a rather widely used term.”

There was a distinct flush of pink beneath his freckles, and as she took in more of his face, she realised he was mostly clean. Someone must have made him scrub his face before letting him go in public.

“Huh. Ain’t never heard of it.”

At least he had the good grace to be embarrassed. Satya realised she’d expected him to make some sort of lewd joke, but he seemed to be just as out of sorts as she was. _Hmm_. She was sure he’d get there eventually.

“I suppose that’s fair.” She replied, awkwardly looking down as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I doubt there’s much in the way of French lingerie in the Outback.”

A nervous sounding giggle welled from his throat. “Don’t reckon so, nah.”

Satya sipped at her chai purely for something to occupy her mouth with – she couldn’t talk if she was drinking. Junkrat seized his cup too, lifting it to his mouth in such a hurry he slopped half of his drink over the side, and she watched him expectantly – he seemed to be groping for something to say. A second later and a grin curled the corners of his mouth, taking on a lazy, complacent curve, the glint of gold and the red of his tongue just visible. His fingers drummed almost anxiously on the table, betraying a hint of nerves. Clearly, he was attempting to waylay the awkwardness with humour. “Fancy kind? Got somethin’ a lil’ special planned?”

It was incredible – with his terrible attempt at using humour to smooth over the awkwardness, all her embarrassment vanished, and she barely contained the slight laugh.

“I was waiting for that.” She said, and Junkrat paused, jaw working slightly before he gathered his words.

“Predictable, am I?”

“You’ve asked me that before.” Satya raised a brow. “Have you forgotten my answer?”

Junkrat giggled, a quiet, gleeful thing. “Prob’ly.”

She wondered if she couldn’t turn the tables and make _him_ uncomfortable. “Why do you want to know?”

Junkrat froze in the act of reaching for the sugar, and then his shoulders moved in a distinctly nervous giggle. “Uh… what?”

Satya shrugged one shoulder carelessly, ruthlessly moving forward. She wanted to _punish_ him. “You asked me what kind. Why do you wish to know?”

Junkrat was now staring, his expression dazed and guilty and hopelessly confused, his jaw slack and eyes wide. “Uh…” He swallowed. “I dunno?” His voice went up an octave in confusion, and she allowed the corners of her lips to tilt with her amusement.

“Asking questions without knowing where you are taking them? That does not seem wise to me.”

Junkrat uncurled the fingers of his metal hand and cupped his jaw, before his gaze snapped back to hers and his brows knitted. “Are… are y’doin’ that on _purpose?”_

Satya let her lips hitch up into a smirk, and his eyes narrowed, though his expression was perfect – flustered and totally out of sorts.

“So, uh… get anythin’ else?” Junkrat seemed like he was in a hurry to change the subject, and Satya let him have the reprieve. She was entirely in control of herself again, and could therefore move on.

“Yes, I bought a few things. Some new clothes, some stain remover, some paperclips. Big ones.”

A frown creased his brow further. “Stain remover? What’s that fer?”

“…Removing stains.”

He snickered. “Obviously. But what on?”

“Clothes, of course.” Satya raised a brow. “You’ve evidently never used it.”

“Nope.” He made the _p_ sound pop, then grinned, the wet red of his tongue finding a golden tooth.

“That’s a shame; you could certainly use it.”

His grin was a crooked thing, but it widened at her words. “Yeah? Dunno ‘bout that.”

“Why not?” She challenged. “Surely you don’t _dislike_ the feeling of being clean.”

Junkrat rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It ain’t that, not really. I’m just used t’dirt.”

Satya dropped her chin, looking at him in disbelief. “Used to being filthy?”

“Yeah.” Junkrat nodded, metal fingers tapping restlessly on the table. “Ain’t much water back home. What y’can find is fer drinkin’, not for wastin’ by tippin’ it on yerself.”

“Well… I can see the sense in that.” She said reluctantly. “But here! There is plentiful water at the base, so there’s really no reason for you to-”

“Feels strange but.” Junkrat’s eyes gleamed with a peculiar sort of humour and he giggled, twirling his spoon around in his fingers. “Doesn’t feel roight to do it all the time.”

Satya took another sip of her chai. “I suppose.”

Junkrat looked more at ease now, slouching in his chair. “Y’still busy with yer work?”

Satya shook her head. “No, I’ve finished my proposal for the Omega building. It’s been submitted for review, and I’m still waiting to hear if they will go with my design or not.”

Junkrat tilted his head. “Sounds real interestin’. All fancy an’ corporate.”

Satya wasn’t entirely sure whether he was being sarcastic or not. At any rate, she decided to treat it seriously.

“I think so.” She took another sip of chai. “I enjoy my job.” Satya decided to change the subject. “Have you named your cat yet?”

Junkrat’s eyes brightened. “Yeah, gonna call him Mullock.”

Satya raised a brow. “Mullock.” She had never heard that word before. She presumed it was Australian. Junkrat nodded enthusiastically. “And Mullock comes from…?”

“It’s like, y’know, buggered. Useless, just like that great ginger lump is.” His grin widened. “Like junk, y’know?”

He’d named the cat after himself. Satya rolled her eyes hard enough to hurt and then at that moment, she caught sight of Mercy making her way through the café to their table. “Oh, look; Mercy’s back.”

Junkrat turned to look and then frowned at his coffee. “Where the bloody hell has Hoggie got ta?” He mumbled under his breath, just before Mercy slid into her seat.

“Hello.” She chimed, and Satya greeted her in return. “I am sorry I left like that; I forgot something that I needed.” Mercy took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “Urgh, it’s gone cold.”

“I believe that would be your own fault for running off like that instead of waiting until we left.” Satya chided gently. “Why didn’t you?”

Mercy shrugged and looked evasive. “Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t want to hurry things up and… interrupt.” There was the strangest pause before she said her last word, and Satya furrowed her brow, quite sure that there was something going on here. Mercy evidently had an ulterior motive… but what? The only thing gained by her little disappearing act was that Satya had ended up speaking to Junkrat alone, but that couldn’t have been what Mercy wanted, surely.

“Didja see Hog anywhere?” Junkrat asked, craning his neck as he peered through the front windows of the café.

“No, I didn’t.” Mercy replied, a too innocent look on her face. “I wonder where he’s gotten to.”

Junkrat made an irritated noise in the back of his throat, pulled out his phone and proceeded to call Roadhog, who arrived back not thirty seconds later. Junkrat frowned at him rather suspiciously.

“Where’d y’go?”

Roadhog made a non-committal noise and left it at that, no matter what Junkrat said.

“Come on, everyone.” Mercy frowned at her own phone for a moment. “We should head back.”

That was the best news Satya had heard all day. She was fairly quiet for the trip back, and Mercy chatted animatedly to Junkrat while Roadhog was similarly silent, only offering the occasional grunt that she still wasn’t sure how Junkrat was able to decipher. When they arrived back at the base, Satya excused herself and went back to her rooms to unpack her purchases and evaluate the afternoon. She felt… a little out of sorts, and wasn’t sure why.

Frowning to herself, she went to her mirror and lifted up her shirt, examining the site of her wound. It was all but gone, a faint puckered line the only evidence that she’d been hurt, and it was still fading. Mercy was confident that in time, it would fade all together. Satya frowned harder. No, she was sure her wound wasn’t what was making her feel a little strange.

Heading back over to her bed, where she had laid her purchases, Satya began to unpack, settling into her routine as a way of reorientating herself. She put away her new paperclips and stain remover, and set about cutting the tags from her new clothing so she could put them in her hamper to be laundered before putting them away; she paused when she got to the bag containing her new lingerie. As she unwrapped the tissue paper and picked up the admittedly skimpy lace, her mind refused to stop revisiting Junkrat as he picked up the bag and asked her what it was. Satya paused and screwed her eyes closed tightly, then opened them again. He was ridiculous, really – though she knew he couldn’t really be faulted for not knowing the French term, it was still incredibly embarrassing to be asked so frankly. And with _such_ underwear too! It was so much worse, having silk and lace in the bag, rather than something sensible. A part of her was tempted to try it on, but the rest of her resisted – they hadn’t been washed yet. So, she snipped the tags and let the lace fall through her fingers and into her hamper along with the stockings, making a mental note to hand wash them. They weren’t suited to a washing machine.

Having packed the rubbish into her bin, Satya mentally revisited the little café. She was still of the opinion that Mercy’s behaviour had been a little strange, but as she hadn’t been able to come up with any sort of explanation for it, she was forced to leave it. Junkrat’s words came swimming back to her then – she couldn’t quite believe he’d retained that little snippet enough to bring it up again – that they had finally gotten around to having the coffee they’d intended to have in Austria. Of course, the situations were quite different. In Austria, she’d intended to bring coffee back to everyone at the little hotel, whereas here, she’d been abandoned by Mercy and he by Roadhog and ended up alone. She… didn’t quite mind it, surprisingly enough. A furrow appeared in her brow and her teeth found her lower lip as she considered this surprising thought, then accepted it with a slight sigh of resignation. Even before Vishkar had made her cut off all contact, Satya knew she’d been inclined to… well, not quite enjoy his company. His conversation, maybe. He was surprisingly insightful and even thoughtful at times, and he could be very amusing, which was surprising in itself. Satya wouldn’t have thought she’d find a man who so frequently set himself on fire a decent conversationalist in any way, shape or form, but she found she had to admit Junkrat made the cut.

She could only suppose that it was because of the reading lessons. Such closeness invites familiarity, and though she knew Sanjay and the others would be horrified, she knew she had little to fear from Junkrat’s quarter. With his abhorrence of anyone else finding out about his inability to read properly, she could be sure that no one else would find out about the lessons. Such… _hmm_. Satya furrowed her brow slightly. She supposed that such reassurance had made her a little inclined to relax, just a fraction. After all, teaching Junkrat to read was exactly one of the virtuous acts that Vishkar liked to emphasise, though, she reflected, they never seemed to have time to do such things beyond their architectural pursuits. Well, they ought to be happy that now she could. Of course, she knew they wouldn’t, precisely because Junkrat happened to be Junkrat, but it was the thought that counted.

Her mind went back to Junkrat, picturing the way he slouched in his seat, that gold tinged grin when he laughed, the way he would slouch on the floor and play with his mangy cat. Satya caught sight of herself in her mirror and abruptly paused, her smile fading as she realised she was doing just that – she was _smiling_ , quite broadly, and to her horror, there was an edge of fondness in the expression. _Gods_. She hadn’t smiled liked that at Junkrat in the coffee shop, had she? _Oh no_. Satya’s expression become one of dismay as she stared at her reflection, realising she was smiling like that _because_ of Junkrat. Because she was thinking about him.

Her eyes held uncertainty and a touch of doubt as she pinned her reflection with her gaze, unease now written on her features. Satya folded her hands together lightly and laid them over her stomach, feeling deeply unsettled as she realised something that, now she thought about it, she hadn’t been _allowing_ herself to realise.

She didn’t just like Junkrat for his conversation.

She liked _him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friends again at last!
> 
> and Satya has realised she likes Junkrat. now we just have to wait for her to realise she like Likes Junkrat~ 
> 
> poor Jamie XD now he knows that Satya wears lingerie his mind is totally fried, as we'll see in the next chapter! (also the lingerie will play a part in the future. A pretty big part, tbh)


	33. In Sackcloth and Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat attempts to deal with knowing that Symmetra wears lingerie~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains a small NSFW scene!

Junkrat frowned at the picture he was sketching, mind spiralling into fragments once more. It wasn’t hard to see why; he’d returned back from town barely an hour ago and holed himself up in his room the instant they got back, putting Roadhog off and making him suspicious, but that couldn’t be helped. Mercy had insisted that he and Hog go back to the base with her and Symmetra, and Junkrat was more than happy to comply. It had been incredibly hard to keep his composure for the latter half of the coffee shop visit, for after he’d picked up Symmetra’s lingerie (he still couldn’t quite believe he’d done such a thing), his brain had promptly scrambled. Of course, he hadn’t known what lingerie was. At the foot of his bed, Mullock stretched and rolled over, colliding with his foot. The cat had proved to be marvellously deft at negotiating the traps scattered over his floor, and had made himself right at home.

Junkrat had assumed, since Symmetra had said underwear and was a neat, orderly, utilitarian kind of woman that they’d be simple and unassuming. On the way back to the watchpoint, he’d made the mistake, seeing as lingerie was such a weird word, of pulling out his phone and googling it, mainly because he wanted to see if Symmetra’s pronunciation was right after all (he couldn’t believe it was pronounced the way it was, because there were _I’_ s in it!). Junkrat’s eyes had nearly fallen out of his head when he’d seen the results. Picture after picture of gorgeous women clad in skimpy silk and tiny scraps of lace; he’d nearly given himself away but had managed to keep his reaction to a minimum, though he knew Hog was gonna ask him about it later.

Symmetra wore those kind of things.

His pulse sped up just thinking about it. Junkrat knew that sexy, lacy underwear was a thing; he wasn’t that much of an idiot – but he hadn’t known there was a fancy French word for it. Christ, what had Symmetra been thinking when he’d just asked her straight up what was in the bag? No wonder she’d been cagey and embarrassed. There’d been red in her cheeks and the way she’d looked down, teeth sinking gently into her lower lip-

That was exactly the mental picture that’d driven him into his room the instant they got back, pushing him into his bed and under the covers as if they could ward off the niggling feelings of guilt as he wrapped his hand round his cock and let himself indulge in seeing her in his mind’s eye, full hips and long legs and rounded breasts wrapped in sexy lace as she strode towards him, and came with an intensity that surprised even himself.

Junkrat had taken a moment to lie there motionless, gasping and breathless, hand still tight on his dick with liquid cooling on his belly, thoughts too jumbled in the haze of intense guilty pleasure to concentrate. Gradually though, he had started to wonder. What _kind_ of lingerie had she bought? Were his imaginings close to the real thing? Did Symmetra wear that kind of underwear all the time? Junkrat had pictured her neat blouses and skirts and imagined those tiny strips of lace underneath; he’d then needed to suppress a shiver. With those fantastic legs and her narrow waist and just her whole body in general, really, she’d look amazing. Really _really_ amazing. Good enough to eat.

Now, properly cleaned up and back in bed, Junkrat was contemplating things over his sketchbook. He did feel a bit guilty for fantasising about her like this. Guilty, and confused. This was not a feeling he was used to, this _liking_ someone. In the Outback, sex was a straight forward proposition, a chance to let off steam and get some satisfaction. Of course, you had to be constantly careful that your partner wasn’t about to get you with your guard down and leave you with a knife in your back, but… Symmetra wasn’t like that. Not rough and ready, anyway. She was sophisticated and elegant and beautiful and required more than thinking about in Outback terms, and the feelings he had about her were so _confusing_.

Junkrat furrowed his brow. What had started out as a very physical attraction (those _legs_ ) had morphed into something else while he wasn’t looking. She was fuckin’ gorgeous, that much was true, but she was interesting and nice and she _helped_ him with his reading and her hard light was cool as shit and he wanted to talk to her and be around her and show her his bombs and see her smile those elusive little smiles… it was _bewildering_. Mullock woke up and came to rub his head against his metal hand, purring madly. Junkrat stroked him briefly.

His hand absently drummed his pencil against the worn page of his notebook, and Junkrat looked down to see the sketch he’d been working on. In a bid to get the image of her clad in those sexy strips of lace out of his head (mainly so he could control himself the next time he saw her), Junkrat had been drawing her, his pencil following each and every curve of her body as he imagined it to be beneath her clothes. Something that surprised even him was the determination he had to get her face right. There was something very regal in her expression, and it was hard to capture. Nevertheless, his pencil skated across the page, leaving her likeness in its wake as the tabby curled up at his side and went back to sleep.

Once, Junkrat wouldn’t have called himself an artist or even someone who could draw particularly well. The reason being? He’d never really tried outside sketching plans for his bombs. However, following the loss of his arm and the fact that he was forced to use his left hand if he wanted to scribble anything at all, he’d set about training himself to draw – not write, because beyond the symbols he’d invented to remember certain aspects of his bombs, he couldn’t – but drawing? That was important. That was how he designed the bulk of his explosives and remembered them for later. He couldn’t do half as well if he couldn’t draw.

It was just his luck that he was bloody well right-handed.

So, he’d practised with the kind of fervour he could sometimes drown in – for hours and hours at a time he’d draw and sketch anything and everything he could see. Already halfway decent through natural talent, Junkrat had possessed the basic skills already and had simply needed to train his left hand to behave as well as the right. It had taken much frustration and years to do, but at this stage in his life he was confident he could draw just as well with his left hand as he once had with his right, or perhaps even better, considering he’d never really tried drawing from life with his right. Writing was another thing all together – he’d never practiced beyond an attempt at a signature, and so he was quite sure he’d have awful chicken scratch handwriting, but it didn’t bother him so much. As long as he had the ability to get the ideas for his bombs down on paper, Junkrat was happy.

He sketched for another hour before there came a loud pounding at the door. Junkrat scrambled for a moment to shove his notebook beneath his pillow, disturbing the cat, who let out an unimpressed noise and went back to sleep, and then he answered the door. As predicted, it was Roadhog, who pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Well?”

Junkrat managed a very nervous sounding giggle. “Uh, well what?”

“Yer actin’ weird. Since town. What did y’do?”

Junkrat’s giggle was slightly strained then. “Uh…”

“ _Fawkes_.” Roadhog’s voice was a deep, suspicious rumble.

“Whadaya gotta suspect shit all the time for? Maybe I haven’t done _nuthin’_.” Junkrat folded his arms and attempted to be convincing. Roadhog merely stared until he caved. “Ugh. Maybe I did somethin’ dumb. But it wasn’t m’fault!”

Roadhog waited for an explanation in silence, and Junkrat sighed and scrubbed both hands through his hair, then had to spend a moment carefully freeing the strands when they got caught in the joints of his metal fingers.

“‘Metra went shoppin’…” His voice was hesitant.

Roadhog grunted impatiently. “And?”

“At the coffee shop. After y’an’ Merc both fucked off… asked her what she’d bought.”

“An’… she didn’t like that?”

Junkrat’s giggle was strained. “Picked up one of her bags. Just me luck t’pick up _that_ bag… fuckin’ lingerie, Hog.” Roadhog looked at him impassively, and Junkrat’s giggle shot through two octaves. “ _Lingerie!_ That’s what was on the bag. Never seen that word before, so I asked her what it was.”

Roadhog’s sigh was long suffering when it came. “Y’dumbarse.”

Junkrat nodded rapidly. “Ain’t gonna disagree.”

“What’d she say?”

“She was real embarrassed.” Junkrat rubbed at his jaw, suddenly distracted. “Wouldja’ve thought she’d wear that kind of thing?” Roadhog’s only response was to biff him over the head. Junkrat bent out of reach, massaging the sore spot with a baleful expression on his face. “Oi, fuck was that for?”

Roadhog ignored that. “So _that’s_ what y’ve been doin’ this arvo. Y’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout her, an’ more than that, I reckon.”

Junkrat refused to reply, but he could feel his ears heating up, which apparently Roadhog noticed, because he chuckled deeply, clapped him on the shoulder, and informed him that he could have the rest of the day to himself to ‘take care of things’. Junkrat’s ears, he was certain, were a vivid shade of red, and Roadhog showed himself out, leaving him alone with nothing but his thoughts for company.

Christ all- _fuckin’_ -mighty, Roadie thought he’d holed himself up in his room so he could jerk off to the thought of Symmetra in her underwear. Junkrat scowled. He mightn’t like it much, but he was forced to admit Hog wasn’t exactly _wrong_. Shaking his head to distract himself, Junkrat decided that maybe fresh air would be a distraction – it would do him good. He left Mullock asleep and headed to the testing range, seeking to distract himself with his bombs. He figured that would do excellently well to get his mind off Symmetra.

The testing range wasn’t empty – Pharah and Mei were there, chatting. Pharah was clad in her Raptora suit, and while Mei was a little more casually attired, she was still holding her weapon, and ice littered the ground. Junkrat surmised they had either just finished training or were taking a small break. Both women turned to eye him appraisingly as he approached, and Mei’s little drone hovered beside her. He made a face at it.

“G’day. Y’ladies just finishin’ up or y’gonna be here fer longer?”

“I’m finished.” Mei replied. “What about you, Fareeha?”

Pharah had a thoughtful look on her face as she watched him sort through his bombs. “I’ll stay a little longer, I think.”

Mei decided to leave not long after that. “Bye Fareeha, bye Junkrat.” She called over her shoulder.

“Bye Mei.” Pharah called, and Junkrat flicked his fingers up in a lazy wave.

“See ya, Snowball.”

Mei’s retreating figure made a noise of frustration. “I’ve told you!” She shouted. “Snowball is my _assistant_!” The drone buzzed and beeped as it flew in a little circle around her head.

“No one should have a bot as an assistant!” Junkrat shouted back. “‘S unnatural!”

Mei laughed and waved off his comment, disappearing back into the base. Junkrat promptly turned his attention back to his duffel of explosives, and then became aware of the fact that Pharah was watching him still.

“Somethin’ the matter?” He inquired. “If y’need space I can go up the other end of the range.”

“No.” Pharah took a step forward and tilted her head. “I was simply curious. Winston was talking about your explosives the other day, and so I wondered what you have in there.”

Junkrat preened. “Well, roight now I ain’t got a whole lot with me. Most of me stock’s back in the workshop. This is just fer testin’.”

“So what do you test with?”

Junkrat forgot to be wary in the face of apparent enthusiasm for his bombs. “Got some mines, uh, regular land ones and me concussion mines.” He dug into the duffel and pulled out some grenades. “Got some grenades, some pipe bombs, some frag mines, some smoke bombs, me sparklers an’…” He frowned thoughtfully at the bag. “The rest’s back in the workshop.”

Pharah raised her brows. “Impressive. I think Winston mentioned that you make all your explosives yourself?”

Junkrat nodded. “Yeah, that’s roight. Used t’weld the casins’ out of scrap but Winston hooked me up with a supplier so now I only gotta do that fer custom shells.”

“I see. I believe you injured yourself recently?”

Junkrat’s smile slipped. “Uh. Yeah. That was one of these.” He motioned at the concussion mine. “Malfunctioned on me. Pretty rare, but y’know. Shit happens. ‘M all roight now though. Merc fixed me up.”

“Something good, at least.” He got the feeling Pharah wasn’t entirely sincere. She peered at the landmine atop the pile. “What’s this one called?”

“Fancy name? Anti-personnel. I just call ‘em mines, ‘cause they’re me basic design.”

“With a blast range of…?” Pharah raised her brow in question.

“Depends. Me smaller ones are just fer takin’ out the legs, so they ain’t much.” Junkrat hefted a larger mine into his arms. “Frag mines have the biggest range, an’ I can get ‘em t’pack a punch.” This was accompanied by a large grin, and Pharah looked slightly disapproving.

“I must say, I didn’t think Winston was making the right choice when he hired you and your… companion, but you seem to be more advanced than a madman cobbling together rudimentary designs in a shack.”

Junkrat snorted. “High praise, I reckon.”

“Yes.” Pharah looked curious. “Who taught you?”

Junkrat rolled his shoulders before replying. “I did.”

Her eyebrow lifted higher. “ _Did_ you? I didn’t think education standards were _that_ advanced in the Outback.” There was something almost derogatory in her words, and Junkrat stiffened; she’d hit close to home. He forced an airy giggle out of his throat.

“Yeah, well, most of it was trial an’ error. Figured most of it out on me own, or from watchin’ the other blokes puttin’ shit together.”

“Hmm.” Pharah folded her arms. “Either way, your grasp on explosives _is_ impressive. It’s a pity you decided to take your considerable talents and… misapply them.”

 _That_ made him laugh, his body hunching as he cackled until he had to wipe moisture from his eyes. “Oh, that’s a good one.” Junkrat wheezed, still giggling. “Dunno if y’ve noticed, but there ain’t exactly a good employment rate goin’ fer Junkers. _Misapplyin’_ ourselves is the only thing left.”

Pharah narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re sure of that?”

Junkrat quieted down, pulling himself out of his hunch to his full height, requiring her to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “Yeah. I’m sure.” His voice was darker than usual, almost bitter, and though he worked to hide it, he was sure she had noticed.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Pharah’s words were clipped, and she turned on her heel without further ado, and left. Junkrat stared after her with bemusement brimming in his chest. What in the hell had that been? Not only was it the most civil conversation he’d had with Pharah (or really, the _only_ conversation he’d had with her) she’d sort of… complimented him a little. Junkrat shook his head to clear it, and pulled the frag mine from the top of the pile, carrying it out to the centre of the testing range. He almost got the feeling she’d been digging for information, a thought that made him intensely uncomfortable until he went back over the conversation and decided he’d said nothing really incriminating. After making sure the frag mine was perfectly set, primed and ready, he clanked back over to his duffel and dragged it behind the blast-proof shelter wall. Junkrat tugged his goggles down over his eyes and put on his earmuffs – when Mercy had first insisted he wear them, he’d thought they were useless, but had since learned that things went much smoother when his ears weren’t ringing.

Notebook at the ready, Junkrat hit the detonator switch, ears intently noting the sound of the blast, and when the shrapnel that exploded out from the mine had fallen to the ground, he stepped out from behind his shelter to examine it.

Junkrat knew most of the others considered him a mad bomber operating without finesse or subtlety, but there _was_ method to be found in the madness. He’d learned, as he’d said to Pharah, through trial and error, and in the beginning, had made countless mistakes. Now, he had a very defined routine to be followed, a technique that he’d perfected over the years. He never made bombs on their own – he worked in batches, and took care to ensure that each batch used exactly the same amount of ingredients from the same bag or box, to prevent flaws present in one bomb that weren’t present in another. He’d learned _that_ the hard way. Explosives could be temperamental, and now a key part of his process was the testing. Junkrat would take an explosive from every single batch he made, and detonate it in a controlled environment where he could examine the result and fix any errors that may have occurred.

Well, he also liked to see things go explodey, but that wasn’t the _only_ reason.

Junkrat wasn’t bad at hand to hand combat, but he certainly wasn’t extremely good, not like some of the others on the team, and so he preferred to keep his enemies at a distance. If he took an untested batch with him and they turned out to be duds, well, his life could very well be ended from such a mistake, if Roadhog was far enough away. Therefore, every batch was carefully tested, and if faults were detected at this stage, the whole batch was retired until he could determine the cause. At the back of his notebook, he had pages and pages of numbers assigned to different batches; every bomb was carefully catalogued to prevent confusion. It was a good method, one that had saved his hide a few times. It also caught his enemies unawares; hardly anyone assumed that he was, as Pharah said, anything more than a madman throwing explosives together in a shed, and they often paid dearly for it.

He carefully examined the detonated frag mine, noting the scorch marks on the ground, the initial blast range, and the spread and pattern of shrapnel on the ground, so he could record these facts in his notebook. Junkrat nodded in satisfaction; nothing about this mine needed tweaking. He pulled a smoke bomb from his duffel then, placing it in position and then moving back towards the blast wall. He made sure his goggles were in position and then hit the detonator; as this bomb was only smoke, he didn’t need to shelter behind the wall. The goggles let him keep his eyes open and Junkrat greedily took in the billowing clouds of smoke, but noted that the spread didn’t seem to be even; it was like the smoke was listing badly to the left. He scowled; obviously there was a flaw present somewhere.

Junkrat flipped through his notebook as he loped over to the still smoking spent shell, searching for the page where his designs for this particular bomb were to be found. Once he found the page, he examined the schematic with a furrowed brow, mumbling under his breath as he tried to figure out what had gone wrong, and then his attention was caught, not by his bomb, but by the sketch of a woman caught mid-motion as she brushed the strands of hair in front of her face back behind her ear. Junkrat paused, the total concentration he normally had when faced with explosives fading to the background momentarily. Symmetra looked up at him from the page, her expression both attentive and almost sensual in the way he’d captured her heavy-lidded gaze. Junkrat stifled a groan in the back of his throat; this wasn’t _helping_.

Maybe another bomb would really take his mind off her. Hastily scribbling his notes for the smoke bomb, Junkrat turned back to the duffel and grabbed a handful of grenades; his most produced item, he often made quite a few batches at a time, and so had to test some from each batch. The loud explosions made him feel better, but Symmetra was still a niggling presence at the back of his mind, making him grunt in frustration. There were no flaws present in his grenades, so Junkrat noted this in his book and moved on, working through the rest of his stock until he ran out and was left sitting on the ground, scowling at nothing in particular.

“Afternoon, Rat – why the long face?”

Junkrat turned to find McCree striding towards him; no doubt he was here to do some practicing. Hanzo trailed a step behind, bow in hand and arrows slung over his shoulder.

Junkrat scrambled for an excuse, and eventually flicked his hand towards the pile of still slightly smoking shells. “G’day, mates. Smoke bomb ain’t workin’ like it should.” That wasn’t even a lie. He’d have to retrieve another mine from the batch and detonate it to see if the same flaw was present, and go from there.

McCree grimaced sympathetically. “Bad luck there.” He said, tone conversational. “Y’got long t’go here?”

Junkrat giggled absentmindedly, for McCree’s words mirrored what he’d said to Mei and Pharah. “Yeah nah, I’m done fer the day.” He dragged himself to his feet, scooping up the duffel bag as Athena noted what he was doing and sent out those little cleaning bots of hers to clean up the shrapnel scattered across the ground. Junkrat left them to it, slinging the duffel over his shoulder and leaving the testing range, grumbling under his breath about the failed smoke bomb. He headed back to the workshop, hoping to get some work done – _without_ any distractions of the dark-haired long-legged lady variety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor Jamie doesn't know what to do with himself XD 
> 
> if anyone is wondering, those drawings are going to land him in hot water one day~ 
> 
> also, pity Roadhog, who Knows™


	34. Uncertain Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya has another hard to listen to talk, and then finds something Junkrat would have preferred she didn't.

Satya frowned at her own reflection. She was… not overly happy with herself. How could she have done this? She’d only just sorted out her own feelings over how she ought to be treating everyone at the watchpoint and been satisfied with her decision, and now _this?_

This was overstepping the mark, by a _lot._

She liked Junkrat more than she should. That was to say, at _all_. She picked up her brush and began to comb out her hair, smoothing the strands down while she thought. Satya supposed that maybe it wasn’t quite as bad as she’d initially thought. She might like Junkrat, but people liked different people all the time – as friends. That’s all this was. That was acceptable. Of course, Vishkar would throw a fit if they found out, but she had no intention of letting it slip that she enjoyed the company of a madman.

A slight sigh escaped her at the thought, and Satya turned to put her hairbrush back in its proper spot. Junkrat was a giggly madman and was incapable of dressing properly, but she could no longer deny she liked his company and his conversation. His mad ideas and his words, so unshackled by convention, were very different from the perfect, orderly corporate world she was used to.

That didn’t mean she particularly _liked_ it. The fact that she liked him, anyway. Satya had the dubious feeling that matters had abruptly become _very_ complicated.

Satya gripped the edge of the sink and grimaced at her reflection. Junkrat was not at all the sort of person she ought to like. What was troubling her most, however, was that she wasn’t quite sure _how_ she liked him. She liked Mercy and Winston and Tracer and most of the others… that was easy to reconcile. They were pleasant and friendly, and while she wouldn’t call herself friends with them (she _couldn’t_ ), she knew she couldn’t simply call them acquaintances either. Junkrat, for whatever reason, was different. She rather liked his company in a different sort of way, loathe as she was to admit it.

She’d been avoiding him since she had the unpleasant realisation that she did. It’d had been two days since she and Mercy had run into the Junkers in town, and she’d successfully avoided spending more than five minutes in Junkrat’s presence since then. Ugh, what a turnaround! Just when she’d more or less decided she could befriend everyone at the base (well most people. And by ‘befriend’, she didn’t exactly mean _friends_ ). Oh, this was so confusing. Satya rubbed at her temple briefly, frowning.

Well, she supposed she couldn’t avoid him forever simply because she’d gone and decided she didn’t mind the conversation of a mad bomber (who’s the mad one now, she wondered). Mind made up and her resolve steeled, Satya nodded at her reflection and left her bathroom, entering her room to seek out her shoes before heading out to the base at large. She wasn’t necessarily _looking_ for Junkrat; she’d merely decided that if she did see him, she wasn’t going to construct an excuse that would take her elsewhere.

It had been a while since she’d been to the rec room, she noted. Satya had avoided it entirely after receiving her demerits, and she’d been so busy with the Omega proposal after their return from Siberia that even though they’d had downtime, she hadn’t gone down there yet. Well, hadn’t Satya decided she could talk to everyone now? There would be no harm in going there today, even if she knew she’d be looked at oddly, the idea of which she hated.

Reinhardt and Ana were watching a movie when she entered the room, and both waved and said hello. Satya returned the gesture and then went to sit at the other end of the room near the second tv. She perused the bookshelf for a moment and then selected something to read; something light and enjoyable. Many of the books here were fairly old, and judging from the amount of them that had Reinhardt’s name written inside the cover, were his when he was younger.

Satya read for a little while, and then became distracted when a man clad in flannel sat down beside her.

“Hello there.” He drawled, accent pronounced as he drew a cigarillo case from his pocket and set about placing one, unlit, in his mouth. Satya watched this display for a moment before replying.

“Good morning, McCree.”

“What’ve you been up to?” He inquired, and she realised he wished to make conversation.

“I’ve finished my proposal for the Omega building.” Satya neatly closed her book. “I’ve got a little free time on my hands now. At least, until Winston plans our next mission.”

McCree nodded, absently scratching at his scruffy jaw. Satya eyed his stubble with something close to derision; if this were Vishkar, he would never be permitted to appear in public in such an untidy state.

“Right. Hey, listen, Symmetra. What’s the go with Vishkar?” McCree leaned forwards. “Angela’s been chappin’ our hides about it, sayin’ we gotta make sure we don’t do somethin’ Vishkar wouldn’t like.” A curious gleam entered his eyes. “Would they _really_ take your arm away?”

Satya rubbed her good fingers over the gleaming white plates of her arm. “Yes, they would. I’ve seen it happen to other architechs who haven’t fulfilled all that was required.”

“What, they’d just strap y’down and yank your arm off?”

Satya managed a slight smile at his perception of things. “Oh no – it’s not so barbaric as that. The architechs who have been dismissed – they accumulated demerits and were sent to reconditioning for evaluation-”

McCree leaned forwards, his face set in serious lines. “When you say ‘reconditioning’, what exactly do you mean?”

Satya sighed slightly. “I know what it sounds like. ‘Reconditioning’ is what you all say when talking about what Talon did to Windowmaker, and in all honesty, I don’t know why Vishkar insists on using the word. Although, you do have translation issues and such. You can’t forget that it’s a different word in Hindi or Telugu and so on.”

McCree nodded in acknowledgement of that. “So what is it?”

Satya twisted the hem of her skirt between her fingers. “Vishkar works on a basis of demerits. People with little to no demerits are more likely to be promoted and such like. People who accumulate too many demerits are sent to reconditioning, which is essentially an evaluation of their suitability within the company. ‘Reconditioning’ refers to how well they respond to suggestions of how their behaviour ought to be. If they show no promise of improving, then they will have failed assessment and they will be stripped of their rank.” She took a deep breath, gripping her metal wrist tightly. “When that happens, Vishkar takes back their technology. The gauntlets are easy enough, but the prosthetics have to be removed in surgery and replaced by one with no hard light capabilities. That’s what will happen to me if I fail assessment.” She looked up at McCree, completely unable to hide the desperation on her face. “You understand why I can’t let that happen, don’t you? Being an architech is the only thing I know. If I lost it… I’d have nowhere else to go.” She blinked hard at her toes.

Gentle pressure on her arm made her look up as she moved her limb away out of reflex. McCree’s expression was sympathetic as he took his hand back out of her personal space. “Hey, what do you think we are? We’d help you if Vishkar kicked you out. Overwatch has always taken in lil’ lost lambs.” He grinned. “Took me in.”

Satya looked up. “They did?”

McCree nodded and shifted the cigarillo in his mouth, leaning back and lazily crossing his legs at the ankle, a posture she recognised as his favoured story-telling position. “Mmm-hmm. Y’ever heard of Deadlock?”

She furrowed her brow, searching her memory for the word. “I don’t think so.”

McCree nodded slightly, as if he expected it. “Didn’t think y’would. Deadlock was a gang, an American one.”

Satya narrowed her eyes in realisation. “And you were in this gang? You were a _criminal?”_

He nodded, a grin unfurling around the cigarillo. “Yes, ma’am, I was.” His drawl was exaggerated as he tipped his hat. “Got roped into joining when I was a kid. When I was seventeen, well. You don’t want to know all the grizzly details. Overwatch got on our asses and it… wasn’t fun. I got captured, along with quite a few other fellas.” McCree’s expression turned distant as he remembered. “Not sure why, but Reyes saw somethin’ else in me that day.”

 _“Reyes?”_ Satya gasped, eyes widening in surprise. “Not _Gabriel_ Reyes?”

“The very same.” McCree’s eyes crinkled for a moment. “Believe it or not, he wasn’t such a bastard back then.” He reconsidered for a moment. “Well, actually he _was_ a bastard, a real hardass, like Jack. But he offered me a place here. ‘Better than jail’, he said, and y’know, maximum security at the tender age of seventeen tends to be disagreeable to a fella, so here I am.” McCree spread his hands wide at the end of his take and grinned at her. “I ran with Blackwatch, with Reyes, and-”

“I’m sorry, Blackwatch?” Satya frowned slightly. “I am unfamiliar with the term.”

“Blackwatch was a subdivision of Overwatch.” McCree reclined further into his chair. “Overwatch was the public face, the shiny presentable lot. Blackwatch was covert ops. The shit we did? Most of it was off the books. We did the things that needed to be done but couldn’t be publicly admitted. ‘Course, all that came to light when Jack an’ Gabe threw down at the Swiss base. The UN said they’d had nothin’ to do with us. Threw us to the wolves.” His grin widened a bit. “That’s how I ended up as a bounty hunter. Had nowhere else t’go, and there were still baddies that needed takin’ out. But I knew Overwatch was always gonna come back.”

“You think so?”

He nodded his head, tilting his hat slightly. “Yep. World needs somethin’ like Overwatch, and it ain’t just about the fightin’. Ordinary people need heroes. They need hope.”

Satya took a moment to recall the posters of the original members as she had always seen them plastered on the walls in the slums. “You’re right.” She said quietly. “When I was growing up, many people had posters of Overwatch plastered to the walls. Hope is important.” She neglected to mention that Vishkar had their own posters right alongside them.

McCree grinned. “Sure is.” He gave her an inquisitive look. “Now, I shared somethin’ with you, so you gotta share somethin’ with me.”

Satya frowned. “I don’t-”

“Thems the rules, Symmetra.” He waggled his brows at her. “Tell me about Vishkar.”

She managed a slightly uncomfortable laugh. “What would _you_ want to know about Vishkar?”

McCree ignored her inflection. “I’m curious. They obviously rule by fear, and-”

 _“Fear?”_ The word sounded foreign on her tongue, and Satya stared. What was he _talking_ about?

“Yeah. Fear. You were normal when you first came, and then after the Belvedere you wouldn’t even talk to anyone. Winston said somethin’ about reprimands and demerits and then you come out with ‘reconditioning’ and now that you’re back in their good books you’re talkin’ to me.” McCree gestured at himself. “You an’ I both know if this was before Siberia you’d have turned up your nose and walked out if I tried talkin’ to ya.”

Satya frowned. “I did not ‘turn up my nose’. You’re making it sound like snobbery when that had nothing to do with it.”

McCree nodded. “You’re right, sorry. Ain’t snobbery then. But you’d still have walked out.”

“I’ve told you why.” Satya sighed, rubbing at her temples. “Vishkar had me under review, I couldn’t risk it-”

“But why don’t they want you to even hold a conversation?”

Satya stared at him. “Because – because – Vishkar and Overwatch are cut from very different cloth. I am not one of you, and-”

“Y’all believe that bullshit?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What else would I believe?” The words were spoken through gritted teeth, and McCree held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to offend.” He considered her for a long moment. “It’s just, it reminds me of Deadlock, just a bit. You can’t talk to outsiders. That’s how it was for us, too.”

She stared. “You think Vishkar has similarities to a _gang?_ I don’t like that much.”

“Didn’t think you would.” McCree laced his fingers together, flesh and metal weaving over one another as he laid them on his stomach. “But they control you too much to be fair. You gotta have your own freedom.”

“Are you trying to incite rebellion?” She asked bitterly. “It won’t work.”

“Why not? You don’t _like_ it, do you? Being told you can’t even talk to someone or else you’ll get the chop?”

Satya dug her nails into the arm of her chair. “It… isn’t a nice feeling.” She admitted. “But that kind of thing comes part and parcel with corporate life, so there isn’t any point in trying to resist…” She trailed off at the look on McCree’s face; he was shaking his head, wearing a bewildered expression.

“They really have got their hooks deep into you.”

“Hooks?” Satya arranged her most severe expression on her face. “I don’t know what you mean.”

McCree nodded. “Alright, I’ll leave it at that.” He stood up and then hesitated. “But you know we’d give you a hand if Vishkar ever tossed you out on your ass? Because we would.”

Satya stood up as well, brow furrowed at such a statement. “How can you say such a thing? I’ve barely known you for three months.”

McCree’s lips hitched up into a grin. “Oh, y’know. It’s like you said. Cut from different cloth. Ours just happens to be kinder. See ya ‘round.”

Satya watched as he walked out of the rec room, and was about to leave herself when Ana spoke. “He’s right, you know.”

Satya whipped her head around to face the two seated on the sofa, who were plainly not watching their movie any longer. “I beg your pardon?”

“How Vishkar treats its employees isn’t normal.”

Satya squeezed her fingers into fists by her sides as Reinhardt nodded in agreement, prickles of discomfort trickling up her spine. “None of you know the least bit about it.” Her voice was strained, and rather than let Ana reply, she strode out of the room, seeking to free herself from the situation. She itched with the need to relax, to do something to help her destress. Dance came to mind, but there wasn’t really anywhere on the base that was both large and private enough, so she dismissed the thought. The next best thing was work, so she strode towards the workshop, hoping to take her mind off things by refining one of her constructs.

Torbjörn was there when she entered, welding mask on and sparks flying everywhere as he welded something; she recognised Reinhardt’s armour spread out beneath him. From what she’d heard, Reinhardt had spoken to Winston about having his armorer come to the watchpoint, and so this young lady by the name of Brigitte was currently en route. Torbjörn was certainly pleased; not having to deal with Reinhardt’s armour meant he would have more time to devote to his turrets and other constructs. The Swede’s back was to her as he welded, so Satya didn’t bother with a greeting as she entered, moving instead to sit at her workbench and look at what she had been working on before she’d been given the Omega building project.

Such was her distraction, however, partly from her own tumultuous feelings over Vishkar and Junkrat, and over McCree’s words, was that she couldn’t concentrate. Satya rubbed at her temples and decided to go to the kitchen. If she got a nice refreshing drink she might feel better. She tugged her light coat just a bit firmer around her body as she walked, hoping the light exercise would help clear her mind. It was early December now, and though Gibraltar wasn’t the coldest place on earth – it was tropical balm compared to Siberia – there was a chill in the air.

Hana was already attempting to acquire Christmas decorations and string them about the base; a conversation overheard two days ago between the young Korean girl and McCree let Satya know that Hana wasn’t actually Christian, nor did she care about the message of the holiday – she just wanted presents. Everyone had already been informed that Hana was insisting on a proper Christmas, with a morning of opening presents under the tree before sitting down to a delicious meal in the evening. Therefore, Satya was putting some thought towards what she would acquire for the others, for Christmas was only a fortnight away. Torbjörn was easy, as was Hana, Reinhardt and McCree, though she suspected she’d just stuck on some of the others. It was just as well Mercy had put her foot down and insisted that the presents be small and inexpensive.

Satya didn’t care much at all about Christmas – instead, she was slightly sad to be missing the festivals, feast and fast days throughout the year as practised by most of her co-workers at home, but she supposed it couldn’t be helped. Reinhardt was all for celebrating – he and Torbjörn were already planning Christmas dinner, and by all accounts it was going to be a spectacular feast.

When Satya walked in the door of the kitchen, she became aware of two things. The first was that she was not alone, and the second was that the entire island counter seemed to be taken up by some sort of mad science experiment.

“Hi Symmetra!”

“Good morning, Hana.” Satya leaned against the doorjamb and folded her arms, raising a brow at the mess before her. “What is all this?”

“We’re making boba tea.” Hana said, wielding a spoon ferociously as she pointed at Junkrat and Lúcio with it. Lúcio nodded briefly in recognition of her presence and then went back to cutting up strawberries, while Junkrat was positioned at the stove, stirring a very large pot. He flicked his fingers up in a brief wave and then turned his attention back to the pot. She could see red staining the back of his neck and the tips of his ears – surely from the heat. She noticed that his cat was sitting on the bench beside the stove, receiving the occasional scratch behind its one ear and watching Junkrat cook with great interest. It was far more endearing then it should have been.

“I see.” Satya took a few steps into the room, eyeing the different concoctions with a curious eye. “And you need this many things to make tea?”

Hana put her hands on her hips. “Well, we have to make the pearls and the fruit and everything. It’s better than just plain.”

Satya nodded, though she didn’t necessarily agree, running her gaze over the heavily laden counter as she did so.

“Would you like some?” Hana offered.

“Thank you. I haven’t had boba tea before.”

 _“Really?”_ Junkrat turned to face her then, incredulity written on his features. “Never in yer life?”

Satya shook her head. “I’m afraid I’ve always been much too busy to try it. Besides, I’m fond of normal tea.”

“You should try it.” Lúcio offered, probably just to say something. “It’s pretty good.”

“If you’ve enough to spare.” Satya smiled at them all, and noted Junkrat’s pink ears as he quickly swung back around to the pot on the stove. Honestly, she was glad he wasn’t looking at her, for his gaze was bringing her lingerie to the forefront of her thoughts and heat to her cheeks.

“Is the tapioca ready yet, Rat?” Hana called, quickly going over to check on Junkrat, while Lúcio motioned at the bowls of fruit and indicated that she should pick one. She eyed him for a moment. So long as he didn’t have to speak to her, he seemed to be able to tolerate her presence. It was only once he fell into an argument that he really got going. After deliberating for a brief while, Satya went with the fresh, juicy lychees, and ate one while she watched Hana and Junkrat carefully prepare her drink, Mullock winding around everyone’s ankles and generally making a nuisance of himself. The lychee kissed soft stains of juice across her fingers and as she couldn’t see any serviettes with which to clean herself up, Satya sucked the tip of her ring finger into her mouth lightly, and met Junkrat’s gaze as she did so. He froze, a delicate flush of pink spreading beneath his freckles, and then his shoulders hunched as he very deliberately busied himself with the tapioca pearls. Satya wrenched her gaze away from his bare shoulders and away from the tan lines left by his harness to safer things, like the cup Hana was holding out.

“Here you go.” She said cheerily, and Satya murmured her thanks as she took the drink and sipped it. Sweet and creamy, her first thought was that she liked the combination of the tea and the lychees, and then a tapioca pearl came up the straw and she furrowed her brow and tilted her head as she chewed slowly and examined the texture of it. It wasn’t really like anything she’d had before, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“It’s very nice. Thank you.”

After a little more conversation, Satya excused herself and headed back to the workshop, leaving the three of them to tidy up the mess they’d made. Torbjörn had gone, and free of the noise caused by his welding and hammering, Satya sipped her drink and worked on her designs. She was in the middle of crafting a prototype turret nearly an hour later when the doors opened and Junkrat stumped in, boba tea being slurped noisily from his straw, his cat following behind with its damaged tail held high in the air.

Deciding that the best course of action would be to behave normally in his presence, Satya greeted him. “Good morning. What flavour did you get?”

Junkrat swallowed his mouthful and grinned at her. “Mango. ‘S real good.”

“I can imagine.”

Junkrat tossed his notebook casually onto his workbench and set down the cup of tea, before he moved into the storage room. “Better get a wiggle on.” He tossed over his shoulder. “Got lots t’make.” The cat jumped up onto the bed made from a blanket Junkrat had at one end of the bench, and happily went to bed.

As Junkrat disappeared into storage, no doubt to track down his empty shells and copious amounts of unmixed explosives, Satya looked around with a frown. Part of sharing the workshop came with communal tools, and she didn’t have the one she needed. Standing up, she headed over to examine Torbjörn’s forge and workbench – perhaps it was there. She peered over the collections of things on his bench – over the photographs of his wife and many children, over the scattered tools and bits of scrap. Despite her hope, she didn’t find it, and Satya turned and cast her gaze about – _there_. It was sitting on Junkrat’s bench. She strode across the room, intending to take it and return to her own desk, but something caught her eye.

It was Junkrat’s notebook, so carelessly tossed onto the bench that it had fallen open to reveal a page covered with Junkrat’s chicken scratch shorthand, and… drawings. There were several of different explosives and a detailed schematic for a detonator, but the one that caught her eye was a figure of a woman. A very familiar woman.

Mullock meowed at her.

Her breath caught in her throat and Satya dropped the tool in favour of gripping the notebook and examining the drawing carefully. It was her – it couldn’t be anyone else – sketched mid-way through crafting something. Junkrat had even captured the half-crafted turret in the drawing. A part of her noted that the execution of the image was very good – despite his awful handwriting, Junkrat was clearly a rather talented artist. Heart slamming in her chest, Satya flicked through several pages and gasped. There, clear as day, was a drawing of her in her underwear – in lacy, lingerie-like underwear, her expression almost sultry, her eyes heavy lidded and teeth worked into her lower lip. _Oh, gods._ He clearly hadn’t forgotten that day in the café.

Why… _why_ had Junkrat drawn her like this? Maybe he drew everyone, her mind suggested. Just simple figures drawn from life. She knew plenty of artists kept the habit of drawing anyone and everyone around them to keep in practice. Maybe she’d turn the page and find Mercy staring back, and McCree, and Ana, and… she stared at another rendition of her face, and then started flicking desperately through the rest of the book, because she couldn’t be the only person in there – but she was. It occurred to her that this was quite the invasion of Junkrat’s privacy, going through his personal notes, but at that moment, Satya found she couldn’t quite care. Mullock came to sniff at her elbow and she ignored him as she flicked to the end of the notebook and was about to return to the start when a small piece of card fell out, dislodged by her motions. Satya bent and picked it up slowly, panic rising and bubbling in her lungs as she stared at the polaroid of herself dressed to go to the Belvedere. It was one of the ones Hana had taken, and… _why did Junkrat have it?_ A scuffle from the storage room caught her attention, and Satya hastily threw the notebook down and grabbed the tool she’d been looking for, hurrying back over to her workbench and sitting down as Junkrat came out, carrying a tray laden with materials for his bombs as he whistled a jaunty tune. The photograph in her hand burned itself into her fingerprints as she sat there in shock.

Part of her wanted to confront him instantly, to demand what right he had to keep photos of her and draw her almost _naked_ , but the most overwhelming need was to think. Satya wasn’t going to be confronting anyone until she had sat down and sorted through her feelings and decided what the best course of action was. She worked to calm her breathing, and as the initial shock of discovery began to wane, questions began to worm their way into her thoughts. 

Did Junkrat… like her?

No. _Impossible_.

Satya refused to acknowledge the thought, because there was no way she could have caught the attention of a mad bomber who could barely put on his clothes correctly. _But_ , a small voice piped up in the back of her mind. _You like him too._

 _“Not like that.”_ Satya hissed savagely under her breath, and from the squeak of the chair behind her knew that Junkrat had heard her whispered exclamation and had turned to look. She stared resolutely ahead and refused to acknowledge his glance. She opened her drawer to shove the photo away and caught sight of the handmade patch of his she’d kept staring up at her, grinning madly with ‘x’s for eyes. Satya frowned, distressed, and shoved the drawer shut.

Oh gods. Oh _Gods._ The more she thought about it, the more and more things wormed their way into her thoughts. Junkrat’s pink tipped ears when she’d sucked the lychee juice from her finger. The way he seemed to be so inexplicably enthusiastic for her company. The way he’d sometimes watch her with an inscrutable expression on his face. His reaction to her pulling him close in the alleyway with Talon agents at their backs. The way he’d looked at her in her _lehenga choli_ – Satya closed her eyes with a shaky breath, the memory hitting her crisp and clear – Junkrat’s arm around her as they careened through the streets of Vienna, and then, in the dropship, the way his gaze had fastened on her bare waist when she took her _odhni_ off. She’d assumed it was simply the motion that had caught his eye, but what if it was something more? Satya took a deep, restorative breath as she dropped her head into her hands and squeezed her eyes shut.

If Junkrat liked her… what was she going to do?

She tried to put those thoughts to the side and focus on the drawings instead. One the one hand… it was almost flattering, that he found her a worthy subject. On the other hand, he’d also drawn her clad only in lingerie, which was a stunning invasion of her privacy. Satya scowled at nothing in particular; she wasn’t happy with him for that. She had every right to be angry but in this case, she wasn’t entirely sure if being angry was the right way to go about things. If it were any other person she’d have no qualms in instantly shutting them down, but this… Satya sighed, irritated with herself. If she dressed him down and refused to speak to him again, like she was somewhat inclined to do, she was forced to admit that Junkrat wouldn’t be the only one who felt a loss. As much as she hated to admit it, she enjoyed his stupid self and his stupid company, and eventually, decided that perhaps anger wasn’t the best course of action.

Oh, she was still extremely displeased with him, make no mistake, and she fully intended to express her feelings towards him drawing her (a co-worker!) in her underwear, but perhaps she would find a way to convey this without ruining their friendship.

Satya sighed again once she realised what she’d just thought. _Friendship_ – with Junkrat? She still didn’t know what in the hell she was doing by cultivating anything of the sort with him – she just knew she enjoyed it.

The fact of the matter was, she was no longer in possession of all of the facts. When she’d thought he looked upon her as a friend, she knew where things stood. But this? This thrust her into the murky waters of doubt and misinformation, and Satya realised her most pressing priority was to find out _exactly_ what Junkrat felt for her, for unless she did, she couldn’t proceed in how to act.

She nodded, satisfied. _There_. That was the best course of action available to her at the current moment. It was never a good thing to work on assumptions and hearsay alone, so she would subtly investigate and interrogate Junkrat until she found out exactly what she needed to know, because she might be wrong. She might be assuming things that never existed; Junkrat might have drawn her because of their shared proximity in the workshop. He might hold no deeper feelings for her at all. Still, she had to find out; being in the dark was a feeling she utterly despised, and she knew she wouldn’t rest until she found out the truth. Satya allowed a slight smile to grace her lips as she turned in her chair to eye the unsuspecting Junker as he worked at his bench, and she began to plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well someone just landed himself in hot water


	35. Carefully Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya corners Junkrat and interrogates him over the notebook.

Junkrat whistled lightly to himself as he headed towards the stairs that would take him to the roof. He’d received a text not long ago from Symmetra, saying she had some free time they could use for a lesson if he would like to. Junkrat had, of course, said yes, and now he was on his way to meet her, after locking Mullock in his room. He climbed the stairs slowly, gripping the rail to aid balance, and punched in the code at the door. Entering the cool wintery air, he blinked slightly and then took in the sight of Symmetra, sitting back against the wall with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. A steaming thermos of tea sat beside her along with a pile of books and a box of what he was sure would contain something sweet and snackish. A grin adorned his face as he dropped to the ground beside her.

“G’day. Looks good.”

Symmetra’s head snapped around sharply and she gave him such an odd look that Junkrat swallowed nervously and elaborated. “The tea. ‘S that tea? Hope so.”

“Oh.” Symmetra nodded and lifted her hands, drawing a hard light cup out of the air and handing to him. “Yes, it’s tea.” A slight wry smile turned her lips. “Not boba, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, what a shame.”

Junkrat occupied himself with pouring out a cup of the steaming liquid and then settled back against the wall with a grateful sigh, taking a small sip. He then tried to surreptitiously reach for the box of snacks, to which Symmetra swatted his hand away. Junkrat giggled, a high pitched sound, and grinned as the hint of a smile turned her lips.

“Mullock isn’t accompanying you today?”

Junkrat grinned and shook his head. “Nah, the lazy lump’s sleepin’.”

Symmetra looked faintly amused. “With the way he follows you about, you’d think you had two bodyguards, not one.”

That made him laugh, and Junkrat wiped his eyes before replying. “He’d act the part too! Hisses at everyone. Ah.” He exhaled deeply and got over his amusement. “So, what’re we readin’ today?” He asked, and Symmetra reached into the book pile and drew out a comprehension workbook. Junkrat barely suppressed a sigh.

“We’re not.” As if she knew the pain she was causing him, the corner of her lips tilted further.

Despite the pain of adverbs and nouns and punctuation that she put him through as the hour passed, Junkrat enjoyed seeing what he could say that could make her smile slightly. Symmetra kept turning and placing her hand on her coat pocket, but he didn’t think too hard about it, preferring instead to stuff himself full with the scones dripping with jam and cream that’d she’d brought.

“Oh, that goes down a treat.” He muttered, licking his fingers to catch all the lingering remnants of the cream, when he realised she was watching him oddly, almost staring directly at his face. “Oi. I got cream somewhere?”

Symmetra looked away, tucking her hair behind her ear. “No, you’re quite clean.”

Junkrat nodded, satisfied. True to what she’d threatened him with, he’d fallen into the habit of giving his face a bit of scrub before coming up here for lessons.

“Actually…” Symmetra’s voice was a bit hesitant. “While I have you here, Junkrat-”

“Jamison.”

“What?” Symmetra lifted her questioning gaze to his, and Junkrat cringed. He hadn’t quite meant to say that, but stuffed full of scones and cream and piping hot tea, he was relaxed and sleepy and let the word just… slip out.

He cleared his throat and supposed he might as well continue; it wasn’t as if he’d never contemplated telling her his name, and besides, if he clammed up, she might start asking the others who ‘Jamison’ was, and that was something he didn’t particularly want. “Uhm… Jamison. Jamison Fawkes. That’s me name. M’real name, I mean. Y’can… y’can call me that. If y’like.”

Symmetra was quiet for a very long moment as she watched him, and he squirmed, drumming his fingers anxiously on the ground.

“Jamison Fawkes.” Symmetra seemed to be trying the words on her tongue, and Junkrat let out a breath as the sound of her accent shaping the letters of his name hit his ears. He wasn’t overly fond of his name, but… he didn’t think he’d mind it if she used it. Almost. “Is it really?”

“Yeah.” He managed a slight laugh. “Mum liked it. She, uh, she used t’call me Jamie.  Only one, really. Hog calls me Fawkes sometimes, when I’m bein’ a real fuckhead.”

Symmetra searched his face with frankness in her eyes. “Do you like it?”

Junkrat scratched awkwardly at his head. “Not really. Don’t think it suits me, t’be honest. Prefer Junkrat. That’s what I think of meself as, y’know? I ain’t been Jamison in years.”

Symmetra nodded slightly, the wind moving her hair softly. “Jamison Fawkes.” Her tone was musing now. “It’s quite regal. More so than I would have expected.” After a slight pause, she continued. “My name is Satya.” She offered, sending a bolt of electricity surging through his veins. _She’s tellin’ me her name._ “Satya Vaswani. Though perhaps you already knew that.”

“I knew Satya.” The feeling of using her name to her face made him feel a bit short of breath, and Junkrat knew he was staring at her with wide eyes. “So… Satya… Vaswani. ‘M I sayin’ it roight?”

Somehow, he knew he’d said the right thing, because she smiled a proper smile then. “Not really. The curious thing about Australians is that your accent makes your words too harsh, though I suppose it cannot be helped.”

Junkrat blinked. “Oh.”

The wind blew her hair into her face and she moved it back, and he was utterly unable to read her expression.

“Well, Jamison, if I may call you that, then you may call me Satya.”

Junkrat blinked and grinned, his smile uneven and his cheeks flushed. “Cheers.”

“There is something I meant to ask you, but you distracted me.” Symmetra’s – _Satya’s_ face hardened slightly, and she slipped her hand into her coat pocket and drew something out of it. “Here.” Junkrat took whatever it was when she offered it to him and was about to offer a glib remark when he fully comprehended what he was looking at, and his words died in his throat.

It was the picture of her in her ballgown. Christ almighty, he thought he’d _lost_ it. He’d spent last night ripping up his room looking for it and then eventually come to the uneasy conclusion that it had fallen out of his notebook and blown away. Oh, _fuck._ Horror sluiced through him. If Symmetra had found it… and she was showing him… had she seen his notebook? Had she seen the drawings? Junkrat panicked and attempted to hide it, refusing to look at her until he had himself somewhat under control.

“Uh… what’s this?” He asked in a last ditch effort to conceal the truth.

Symmetra – no, wait, _Satya_ – narrowed her eyes slightly. “You _know_ what it is, don’t you, Jamison?” She moved her hair behind her ear and tilted her head. “Did you bring your notebook?”

 _Fuck_. Junkrat closed his eyes and panicked – he was well and truly fucked. She must know everything – but when the _hell_ had she seen his notebook?

“Yeah.” He muttered, still desperately trying to find a way out of the hole he’d dug himself into. It was a good thing Roadhog wasn’t here – he’s smack him upside the head for this.

“May I see it?”

“Uh, what for?” Junkrat hedged, chancing a look at her. Satya looked very… _determined_.

“I would like to know why, precisely, you have been drawing me.”

 _Fuck_. Junkrat closed his eyes and accepted death. When it didn’t come, he opened them again and tapped his metal fingers nervously on his hinge that made up his prosthetic knee. “Um…”

To his utter horror, Satya shifted a fraction closer, her face stern, but he forgot any possible anger she might have held in the face of her proximity – strands of her hair brushed his face, blown there by the wind. She tilted her head. “You know, it’s very important to me that I know this.” Junkrat stared in growing alarm as she laid her fingers on his arm, over the tattoo inscribed on his bicep. “Tell me, Jamison.” She breathed, and his mind shattered into shards that he had to scramble to collect before he could put together a halfway decent sentence.

“Because… ‘cause… ‘cause yer gorgeous, an’… an’…” Junkrat screwed his eyes shut as his words trailed off. He had _not_ just said that, had he? Satya was going to get up and leave now, with disgust and that cool disdain written on her features, and right after she’d given him permission to call her by her name. He supposed he should just go fuckin’ jump in a lake right about now – standard treatment for stupidity.

“That’s quite the compliment. Thank you.”

Junkrat’s eyes snapped open and he wondered if he dared look at her.

Symmetra wore a guarded sort of expression, but she didn’t _seem_ angry or disgusted. Junkrat began to very cautiously hope. In the meanwhile, he realised he should say something, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out what.

“How didja know…?”

Her lips tilted up slightly with something wry. “How? I was looking for a screwdriver yesterday. You left your notebook open on your workbench.”

Junkrat closed his eyes and let his head thud on the wall behind him. “I’m a fuckin’ _moron_.”

Her laugh was more an amused exhale, but he was fairly sure it still counted.

“Um… yer not angry?” His shoulders hunched in fear of Satya’s answer, and Junkrat watched her, wide eyed.

She didn’t answer his question.

“I see you’ve miraculously discovered what lingerie is between now and the other day.” Christ, _Christ_ , she’d seen it. She’d seen the drawing of her in lingerie. He was _fucked_. Her voice was sharp and scathing, and Junkrat tripped over his words in his rush to explain.

“No – I mean, yeah, but it ain’t like that – I googled it-”

This was the wrong thing to say. Satya turned, her eyes flashing with fire and her mouth a thin, unimpressed line. “ _Oh?_ Looking for inspiration, were you?”

 _Fuck, oh fuck_ – she sounded so angry, and Junkrat quailed for a moment before he managed to pull himself together. “No – I meant – I googled the word ‘cause it sounded too dumb t’be real. Didn’t know what lingerie was, I swear!” He took a moment to breathe and then continued. “When y’said underwear I just thought it was like, normal.” He snuck her a peek to gauge her expression. “Proved me wrong, ay.” _Fuck. What in the hell did I say that fer!_

Her lips curved into a deeper frown. “Be that as it may-” She took a deep breath and continued. “I don’t like the fact that you’ve been drawing me in my underwear.” Symmetra’s voice was clear and frank and her face would have been perfectly composed if it hadn’t had been for the red crawling into her cheeks.

Junkrat knew his ears were burning. “Sorry.” He mumbled. “Knew I shouldn’t have…”

Symmetra was quiet for a long moment. “Did you indeed? I think you ought to listen to that little voice in your head when it tells you something is a bad idea.” Her voice was cold and he ducked his head and tapped his fingers against his knee with a faster, more agitated pace. “Despite the subject matter, however, I must say they’re very good. I didn’t know you were that talented.”

 _Well_. That wasn’t what he’d expected. Any other time he’d have made a joke about being _talented_ but with mortification burning at his skin he only managed a weak chuckle. “Cheers.” The word left his lips hesitantly, for he really had no idea what to say.

She was still watching him with that intent, searching gaze. “No more lingerie, Jamison.” Satya said firmly. “We are co-workers and nothing more. This is inappropriate and unprofessional, and I won’t allow this to continue. You _will_ stop.”

Junkrat nodded vigorously – if this is what would get her to stop being angry, he’d agree to anything. “Roight, ‘course not. Scouts honour.” Disappointment flowed through his veins. She thought it was inappropriate. She very clearly was telling him that he was getting his hopes up for nothing.

_Co-workers and nothing more…_

He closed his eyes.

“Good.” Satya looked down for a moment. “You may keep the tea.” She was, he registered, still alarmingly close, and holy fuck, was she leaning in _closer?_ He froze, unwilling to even breathe as she leaned in close enough that he could feel her warm breath against his ear. “Goodnight, Jamie.”

He shivered; he was entirely unable to help himself. He found himself unable to move as she got up and moved to the door, and by the time Junkrat had unscrambled his brain enough to turn around, she had gone. He tipped his head back against the wall, eyes wide, and let out a shaky breath. “Holy fuck.” He murmured. Symmetra… hadn’t been angry. Well, she didn’t like the almost nude drawings, but that was fair enough. Maybe she was _secretly_ angry. The thought made him pause until he remembered that she’d found the drawings before she invited him to use her name. She wouldn’t have done that if she was really pissed off. Therefore… did she… not mind?

She’d called him Jamie. A goofy grin curled his lips. _Jamie_. It was almost strange to hear it, because he honestly preferred Junkrat, and yet… he didn’t mind it coming from her lips. Lips that had been scarily close to his ear just a moment before. Junkrat grabbed his ear and tugged at it, thinking hard. She’d leaned in to say goodnight… something that she never did even when she wasn’t pissed at him. Did she…?

He was fuckin’ confused. Utterly befuddled. She’d been equal parts angry and… hot. Really, really hot. Junkrat recalled the way she’d leaned in and spoken, and his name had rolled off her tongue, voice low and ridiculously erotic. Junkrat rubbed at his chin and frowned. Even his dick was confused; he didn’t know whether to be scared or turned on.

Junkrat clambered to his feet, a sense of urgency sudden rushing through him. He needed to find Roadhog and get his advice. Scooping up the thermos of tea, Junkrat proceeded to dash downstairs and to his room, where he dumped the tea, scratched Mullock briefly, and then scooted along to Roadhog’s room. He wasn’t there.

Junkrat, thinking that Hog was either in the gym or in the kitchen stuffing his face, attempted to go careening out of the barracks, but ended up smashing full force into Ana as they both rounded the same corner.

Off balance because his weight was on his peg, Junkrat went down like a sack of bricks, hitting the ground with a loud _‘Oof!’._ Ana snickered as she extended a hand.

“Someone’s in a hurry.” She said, and Junkrat let her help pull him to his feet.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. In a rush. Lookin’ fer Hog. Y’seen him?”

“Roadhog? He’s gone down to town.”

 _“What?”_ Junkrat yelped.

“Winston and Jack asked him. I’m not sure what they’re up to.”

“That miserable fat bastard.” Junkrat ground the words between his teeth. Now what was he gonna do? Wait for Hoggie to get back? Fuck off.

Ana looked a bit concerned. “Are you all right? You look very flustered.”

Junkrat dragged his hand through his hair and attempted to look normal. He wasn’t at all sure if he’d succeeded.

Ana clicked her tongue and grabbed his arm. Still not really used to sudden contact that wasn’t an attempt on his life, Junkrat flinched, which she ignored.

“Come here and tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.” She said firmly, and Junkrat sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“Y’ever done somethin’ real dumb, an’ then someone who y’wouldn’t really object t’not hatin’ ya found out?” He wasn’t at all sure that was a legible sentence, but Ana seemed to get it.

“Plenty of times. If this person has found out – are they angry about it?”

“Uhm… not real sure, actually. Maybe?”

Ana nodded. “Well, my advice would be to apologise.”

“I did!” Junkrat protested. “Sorta. But I dunno what she’s thinkin’ now.”

 _“She?”_ Ana looked at him knowingly.

“Fuck.” Junkrat muttered. “Forget I said that, ‘kay?”

“Not a chance. Who is she?”

Junkrat exaggeratedly pursed his lips.

Ana grinned at him. “Come on, Junkrat. Different women go for different things. I can’t help you if I don’t know who she is.”

Junkrat curled in on himself, shoulders hunching as he scuffed at the floor with his peg. “‘Metra.” He muttered.

“Ah.” Ana sounded quite satisfied. “Well, in that case, I’d say you’ve got some grovelling to do, boy.”

“I know _that_.” Junkrat grumbled, folding his arms, metal fingers tapping restlessly along his side.

“Hah!” Ana clapped him on the shoulder. “What did you do?”

Junkrat said nothing, but felt his ears burning.

“Not going to say? Okay. If I were you, I’d do something she’d like, to help her forget whatever you did wrong.”

Junkrat met her gaze cautiously. “Reckon that’d work?”

Ana waved a jovial hand. “Of course! You said you didn’t know if she was angry – well, Satya’s the type of woman where if she _is,_ you’ll know in a hurry, won’t you?”

“Yeah?” Junkrat answered.

“So if you don’t know, then that means she isn’t furious at you, so you stand a chance at getting back into her good graces.”

Junkrat nodded. “Hn, y’got a point. Cheers, gran.”

Ana scoffed and swatted at him. “The thanks I get.” She muttered mock crossly. “Get a move on, you.” She continued on her way, and Junkrat thought for a moment before he kept walking. Was Ana right? Christ, where was Hog when you needed him?

 

* * *

 

Roadhog turned up eventually, back from a small scouting mission in town. Apparently, someone had spotted Talon agents roaming around and called it in, and though they hadn’t found anything suspicious, 76 had still insisted on patrolling the area.

The instant Junkrat had realised Roadhog was back, he’d scrambled towards him at breakneck speed and insisted they go somewhere private, and now, carefully shut away in Roadhog’s room, Junkrat was busy telling him all about the afternoon – namely, that Symmetra _knew_.

When Junkrat finished, Roadhog stared at him for a long moment. “Y’shouldn’t be let out in public.” He rumbled at last, and Junkrat scoffed.

“Fuck off. It was a mistake, oright? Didn’t mean fer her t’find the bloody thing.”

“She’s not pissed?”

He furrowed his brow and dragged his good hand through his hair. “I don’t – I don’t think so. She didn’t like… some of the drawins’, but she… said it was ‘quite the compliment’.” Junkrat looked over at Roadhog, eyes wide. “Y’think she _liked_ it?”

Roadhog grunted. “Wouldn’t go that far. Y’good at drawin’ though. She probably likes ‘em ‘cause they look decent.”

Junkrat nodded. “Seems legit.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “So what do I _do?”_

“What’d she say when she left?” Roadhog leaned back in his chair, his hands folded neatly on his massive belly.

Junkrat blinked and felt his cheeks grow hot, and he started tapping his metal fingers on his leg. Roadhog clearly noticed.

“ _Fawkes_.”

“Okay, okay! She like… leaned in.” Junkrat stopped and gulped as he remembered.

Roadhog grunted. “Leaned in?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. She leaned in an’ whispered ‘G’night, Jamie’, in me ear.” The tapping intensified.

Roadhog made an irritated noise. “Since when does she know yer name!?”

“Oh, I uh, I told her.”

“When?”

“…’S arvo.”

Roadhog shook his head. “She still called y’Jamie after gettin’ pissy over the notebook?”

Junkrat shrugged helplessly. “She wasn’t pissy, but. Not really. I thought she would be… but she wasn’t.”

“Hmm.” Roadhog went silent for a few minutes. When he spoke up again, Junkrat had resorted to fiddling with the shocks of his leg to take his mind off things. “Whadaya gonna do?”

“Dunno, mate, I really dunno.” He hesitated. “Ana reckons I gotta impress her somehow.”

Roadhog grunted again. “Y’told _Ana?”_

“Not the whole story!” Junkrat defended himself. “But she _bullied_ me, Hoggie. She reckons I gotta impress ‘Metra t’get her t’forget.”

“Well, it’s a fair place t’start.” Roadhog mused, and Junkrat nodded happily. That settled it – he knew what he was going to do.

But what could he do that would impress Symmetra?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you perhaps thinking that Satya is acting strangely? all will be revealed in the next chapter, because she has a Plan™ 
> 
> poor Jamie. he wasn't prepared


	36. Numbani

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya contemplates Junkrat, and Winston gives them their newest mission.

They didn’t run into the Junkers this time round; a fact Satya was eternally grateful for. She and Mercy had returned to town to pick up the items that they’d dropped off during their first visit, and Satya found herself wincing every time she saw a tall, lanky blond, for if it was Junkrat again… she didn’t think she had the strength to sit through another round of coffee. They’d returned from town safely enough, and though she’d spied Junkrat chatting animatedly to Hana in the rec room and Mercy had invited her to join her for lunch, Satya had retreated to her room, finally letting herself properly examine the events of yesterday.

As it was, she still didn’t know how to handle this… situation she now found herself in. Satya had convinced herself that whatever feelings Junkrat harboured towards her needed to be uncovered so she would know how to proceed, and so she’d undergone a series of experiments. She needed to know exactly what Junkrat was doing and feeling, and so she’d arranged a reading lesson. It had… not exactly gone to plan.

He’d told her his name.

Jamison Fawkes. She rolled the words around on her tongue without letting them escape, considering the implication. She had researched Junker culture when Winston had first made them aware of his new hires, mainly so she would know what she was dealing with and how to handle them; names had been mentioned in her research. Junkers took new names to effectively hide their old identities from the outside world, something that stemmed from their intense hatred and distrust of the government. From what she gathered, Junkers never revealed their names to the civilised world or even to each other if they could possibly help it, so the fact that Junkrat had willingly told her his name of his own volition meant something.

She just had to figure out _what_.

That’s what yesterday had been for. Well, sort of. After he’d told her his name, which she hadn’t planned for but had ended up being an exceedingly useful piece of evidence, Satya had gone ahead with her original plan. She’d shown Junkrat the picture of herself that he had been keeping, and his reaction had been very interesting. The reaction, of course, was what she had wanted – Satya had confronted him only to see if she could ascertain from his reactions exactly what he was feeling.

Satya was fairly sure he liked her.

When he’d realised exactly what picture he held in his hand he’d snapped rigid, shoulders hunched, and predictably, he’d denied everything. But Satya had seen the panic on his features, and with a little pressing, he’d as good as admitted it. To be honest, she’d thought she’d need to dig deeper to get a confession, but Junkrat had seemed to realise the futility of it.

Determined to get to the bottom of things, Satya had asked him point blank why he’d been drawing her. The initial question hadn’t gained her anything beyond an increase in the amount of red painting his cheeks, and so she’d recognised the need for a change in approach. Perhaps it was cruel of her to use his own name against him, but it had certainly worked. Closely monitoring his expressions and body language the entire time, Satya had moved closer, and gauged his reaction. Junkrat had frozen solid, eyes wide and rather panicked, and the tips of his ears had been burning red. So he was embarrassed at being caught out – that was obvious, but it wasn’t all she needed to know. So Satya had used his name.

_Tell me, Jamison._

Looking back, the way the words had left her lips had been far more intimate than she would have liked, but Satya couldn’t deny that the reaction they garnered was exactly what she was looking for.

_‘Cause… ‘cause yer gorgeous._

Junkrat had stammered the words and then his face had been seized by an expression of utter horror – Satya got the feeling he hadn’t exactly meant to say that. She hadn’t let herself fully parse his words at that time, determined not to lose her composure, but now, in the privacy of her room, she let herself drown in them. Junkrat thought she was gorgeous. Satya frowned slightly and shifted in her seat, for there was warmth pooling in her belly at the thought. She put it down to a natural reaction to flattery. Still, it was rather nice to know that someone thought her physically attractive – though the fact that it was a mad bomber who thought so was slightly disappointing. He wasn’t at all the sort of man with whom she could consider reciprocation. Satya paused… no, definitely not. She was still warming up to the idea of liking him in a casual sense. Anything beyond that was definitely forbidden territory. But still… the fact he thought she was gorgeous brought a slight smile to her lips.

Junkrat’s body language told her a lot, though whether he knew how much he revealed she wasn’t sure. At that moment, his shoulders had hunched and he’d looked straight ahead, a deer frozen in the headlights, though his fingers had been tapping restlessly, even anxiously. Satya thought for a moment about the pink that had spread beneath his freckles and across the tips of his ears; apparently, Junkrat blushed easily. The fact that _she_ could make that flush of pink spread further rather appealed to her; Satya had no intention of using this new-found power, but it was certainly nice knowing what she was capable of.

She could bring him to his knees, and enjoy it.

Satya started; she had no idea where that thought had come from, but then as she considered it, she realised that maybe she was right – she did like him when he was flustered and addled and out of sorts, and to think that she could render him speechless and pink was fascinating. She wanted to do it again. Satya’s imagination began to get the better of her, and she idly pictured Junkrat as he had been yesterday. She was never one to let herself get caught up over people’s looks – she had better things to do – but she had to admit that Junkrat had been appealing and even quite attractive, the way he’d been looking at her. It was enough to tempt her to seek him out, to invade his personal space and see how flustered she could make him if she tried.

Yesterday had been an unintentional side effect of her plan to grill him for information… and she was sure if she _intentionally_ set out to see that flush of pink spread across his skin… well, it would be enjoyable.

Completely out of the question, but enjoyable.

Satya furrowed her brow as her mind returned to a certain point in yesterday’s interrogation, recalling what had happened next. Still tightly controlling herself, she had thanked him for the ‘compliment’, which had made him relax, almost comically so. Junkrat had released his breath and his shoulders had slumped, and then he’d looked altogether nervous as he asked her how she’d known. He’d turned inward, calling himself an idiot for leaving the notebook in plain sight, and though she privately agreed with him, Satya was still thankful he had left it out, for it let her know _exactly_ what page they were on.

And then he’d asked if she was angry with him. It was a good question, one that Satya still wasn’t entirely sure of. What she’d replied with had been true enough – that he was drawing her in her underwear made her feel uncomfortable on both a personal and professional level, and she fully intended to convey as such.

He was very talented. Satya knew that he was constantly scribbling, but she hadn’t realised his technical skill with his blueprints also involved drawing on a more traditional level. That’s why she’d needed to set out her experiment – to see how much of the drawings were comprised of artistic practise… or something more.

The final test she’d put him through had been even more cruel than the last, she mused, a wry touch to her lips.

_Goodnight, Jamie._

In all honesty, that hadn’t been strictly necessary. But, so curious over this apparent power of hers, Satya had leaned in ever further to observe Junkrat’s response to physical proximity, and it had elicited a very interesting reaction. He’d frozen completely, eyes wider than ever, and she’d noted that despite the bob of his Adams apple as he swallowed hard, he’d been holding his breath. When she’d said his name, a kind of tremor had run through his form, and his fingers, previously frozen stiff, had resumed their worried tapping against the ground. Deciding it would be best not to inadvertently asphyxiate him, Satya had stood and made to leave, noting that as she did so, he didn’t move nor appear to have any sort of desire to. He just… sat there, staring wide eyed at the ocean, as if he were stunned by this turn of events. Satya didn’t really blame him. She knew that if she hadn’t had ulterior motives and hadn’t been ruthlessly controlling herself, she probably would have lost her train of thought as well. She was pleased at how well she’d retained her composure, considering how awkward it had been to make herself bring up the drawing of her in lingerie.

Satya grinned slightly in remembrance, for Junkrat’s expression had been so _guilty_ she’d almost laughed at him, which would have ruined the whole effect, so she was pleased she hadn’t. He’d agreed instantly, lightning fast, when she’d told him no more lingerie drawings, but she was curious to know if he had any intention of sticking to his promise. In order to find out, she’d either have to ask him, which would be awkward, or snoop, which was an invasion of his privacy and she was reluctant to do it again.

Abandoning her good posture, Satya leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers along the side of her desk thoughtfully. Now she knew just what Junkrat was thinking (well, she was fairly certain), all that remained was to think of what to do. Satya wrinkled her nose and opened her top drawer, where she pulled out the patch she’d taken from Junkrat. She hadn’t _meant_ to take it, but when she’d been looking at the patches he’d made (yet another of his apparently hidden talents), he’d come up off the floor and moved to her side, something she hadn’t considered. As they talked, she’d absentmindedly kept one of the patches in her hand, fiddling with it, and then Junkrat’s attention had been drawn by what she had been holding. Satya couldn’t quite explain why she hadn’t wanted to reveal what was in her hand, so she’d slipped it into her pocket instead. Unable to find a good time to slip it back with his possessions, it had ended up in her room, taunting her from inside her desk drawer.

She took a moment to appraise it. The patch was large and circular, clearly made to repair whatever injury Junkrat inflicted on his poor shorts, and appeared to be made from some sort of smooth canvas-like fabric in a dark colour. The texture of it was why she hadn’t put it down immediately – it felt nice rubbing it in between her fingers, rather soothing, in a way. The smooth woven feel contrasted nicely with the roughly stitched edges and the smiley face that seemed to be his favourite pattern. It was the same sort of smiley he painted on his bombs; wicked teeth and ‘x’s for eyes. Satya ran her thumb over the raised embroidery of one of the eyes; rudimentary and rough as the stitches were, she couldn’t deny it held a sort of handmade charm. She meant to give it back, of course; she just needed a moment when he wasn’t in the workshop to slip it onto his bench. Junkrat probably hadn’t even noticed it was missing.

She frowned at the patch then, setting it down on her desk and glaring at it. It was all the patch’s fault, she decided; everything awkward that had resulted between herself and the maker of the patch was the sole fault of this little circle of fabric. Satya grinned at her own ridiculousness and pushed the patch further away; as she did so, her gaze moved from Junkrat’s trademark, to something a little closer to home. Her Vishkar ID.

Satya bit her lip and stared in horror. She hadn’t given Vishkar a single thought in all this. Of course, what had been previously out of the question was now so far out it had left the galaxy and was somewhere on the other side of the universe.

Imagine if Sanjay found out she had attracted the attention of a _Junker!_ He’d laugh until he cried. Not that Sanjay ever cried. It would be too unprofessional. She frowned. She… didn’t quite like the idea of ridiculing Junkrat. Oh, she’d done it before; she’d been asked out by non-Vishkar individuals and had had no qualms in putting them down sharply, and enjoyed Sanjay’s praise for rejecting them later. Satya’s frown deepened. Perhaps she’d simply been out of Vishkar too long, because she felt uncomfortable with the idea of informing Junkrat point blank that his affections were useless and would never be reciprocated. Refusing to consider that it was because she liked him back (because she _didn’t_ like him in that way), she wondered if perhaps it was the fact that he was a co-worker that did it. After all, they all lived together. A rift caused by rejection would make for a very uncomfortable working environment.

And, she considered, Junkrat had never made a move on her. He’d been intent on hiding everything, or so his reactions yesterday indicated, and wasn’t it her that had brought all this to light? She was the one who’d spoken of it first. Perhaps if she neglected to bring it up again, Junkrat wouldn’t either. Perhaps… he didn’t like his attraction to her, and sought to ignore it in the hopes it would soon go away. It made sense; he didn’t like suits. He’d told her that many times. Satya’s teeth dug unconsciously into her lower lip, feeling inexplicably put out over the thought.

No matter. All she had to do was disregard it entirely. Junkrat would either get over his disappointment or be thankful she was taking it no further, and she wouldn’t have to suffer the indignity of having it known to anybody else that _Junkrat_ , of all men, was attracted to her. _Indignity_. Satya sighed. That was a cruel word to use; he wasn’t able to help the circumstances that surrounded his life. She… got the distinct feeling that if she were an Overwatch agent with nothing to do with Vishkar, she might consider it, but the fact of the matter was, she was an agent of Vishkar, one of their top architechs and therefore, nothing like this could proceed.

Though… Satya furrowed her brow. It wasn’t as though she’d never had a romantic relationship before. The only difference was who she had chosen as her partner. The first of her relationships had barely been more than a summer fling with another student before they had graduated from the academy. Vishkar had noticed their attraction and subtly separated them until the relationship fell apart. She held no grudge against Vishkar for this; Prithviraj had been a distraction from her studies, and she could now see that in the long run, their separation had benefited them both.

Her second-long term relationship had been with Ranveer, a co-worker with whom she’d been paired for an important project, the first of her truly important projects, at the age of twenty-one. Long nights spent pouring over blueprints gradually turned to something more, and though the relationship had been sweet, it had ended when Ranveer had been sent to America for a lengthy project and she had been kept in Utopaea.

Her third and most recent relationship had been with Imran Dahiya, a decently popular yet still relatively unknown actor in Hindi movies whom she’d met at the age of twenty-four on a work trip to Haryana. They were friends for a year before anything grew between them, and then, not long after their relationship became romantic, he had his big break and acted in a series of movies that propelled him to stardom. Funnily enough, Vishkar had encouraged this relationship, provided it didn’t detract from her work, and Satya knew why; they liked the publicity that came from having one of their top architechs even more so in the public eye by having her date a newly famous actor. She had attended premiers and red carpets, award shows and was stalked by paparazzi, and hated every bit of it. Imran loved it, of course – he’d gotten what he always wanted, and loved that her position as an architech brought him even more publicity. She frowned as she recalled how he’d always wanted her to wear clothing that revealed her prosthetic for pictures.

Satya had been the one to end that relationship – on top of severely disliking the constant attention that came with being the girlfriend of a famous actor, she found out that he was essentially using her for publicity. Imran’s agent, a slimy piece of work, had suggested that seeing as Vishkar and their architechs were highly influential and almost seen as the saviours of India, it might be worth his while to date one and use the publicity to promote his movies. _Well, it certainly worked,_ she thought sourly. _Up until I found out._ Of course, Imran _was_ a talented actor. She couldn’t be blamed for being entirely fooled in his regard for her. The break up hadn’t been pleasant, and the scandal was worse, but she’d kept her head high and worked through it, and now, a few years later, her name was connected with her work, _not_ her ex.

At that moment, Athena came over the loudspeaker. “All agents report to the lab for debriefing, immediately.”

Satya frowned at the interruption; she wasn’t finished _thinking_. Still, she supposed she could finish her thoughts later. Standing, she brushed herself down and adjusted the way her blouse sat over her slacks, and left her room for the lab.

She was one of the first to arrive, and so took a seat besides Mei to chat quietly for a moment or two while waiting for the others.

“Do you know what is happening?” Satya asked. “Something to do with the Petras Act?”

“I don’t know.” Replied Mei. “Maybe.”

“It will be interesting to see how the UN rationalises repealing the act, if indeed they decide to do so.” Satya neatly crossed her legs. “They’ve been quite vehemently against it in the past.”

“They sure have.” Mei agreed. “But hopefully they can see how much Overwatch can help. When we were disbanded, Talon wasn’t quite so big, and there were hardly any omnic attacks in Western Europe. They can’t deny the world is getting worse. Or so I hope.”

Satya would have replied, but Winston called their attention at that moment, so she settled for a brief nod before turning to face the ape as he scrolled through a tablet.

“All right, everyone.” He began. “We have a new assignment. There’s been-” Winston was interrupted by the doors hissing open and Junkrat and Roadhog ambling in at a casual pace, Junkrat’s cat following with his tail in the air. Satya resolutely refused to look at them. Winston greeted the pair dryly. “Junkrat. Roadhog. Nice of you to join us.”

“No worries, mate.”

Satya couldn’t tell if that was sarcasm or if Junkrat was actually oblivious to Winston’s inference.

The Junkers sat down and then Winston continued, eying Mullock as he jumped on the table, and cleared his throat for a moment before he did.

“As I was saying, we’ll need a team to set out for Numbani tomorrow.”

“Numbani?” McCree leaned forwards. “What’s happenin’? Not Talon?”

“No.” Winston paused. “Well, hopefully not. They’re having their Unity Day celebrations soon, and they’ve requested that the Doomfist gauntlet be taken to the city for display.”

“Hmmm.” Tracer was staring with narrowed eyes at Winston. “I dunno, big guy. Doesn’t that seem kinda risky? We know Talon wants the gauntlet.”

Winston nodded. “I do know. That’s why we’ll be going with the gauntlet, to escort it. However, we’ve recorded minimal Talon activity in Numbani and the surrounding countries within the last few weeks, so we think it’ll be a fairly peaceful mission.”

There was a brief silence. Satya considered this new piece of information. She knew Talon wanted the gauntlet that had been housed in the Overwatch museum, enough to send Widowmaker and Reaper after it. They’d been fought off by Winston and Tracer, and now the gauntlet was carefully locked away in a safe somewhere in the watchpoint; Satya was unsure of its exact location.

“So, a vacation to Numbani for their unity party, with no real guarantee Talon will show up? I’m down.” McCree slipped a cigarillo into his mouth and began to chew. “Be a nice lil’ getaway.”

“Yes, well, hopefully it’ll be a peaceful trip. It’ll be a nice chance to see Numbani at least. I’ve never been.” Winston looked thoughtful. “Is there anyone who seriously objects to going?”

There was a silence, and Satya considered things for a moment. She’d been to Numbani once before, on a trip to broker a contract with a company based in the city. Vishkar had won the contract and she had awaited the arrival of several other architechs, and together they had built a hotel for the company. It was one of the bigger pieces she had in her portfolio, and she was very proud of it.

When no one objected, Winston set about outlining the mission. They would leave at five o’clock in the morning, and arrive in Numbani later that day with the gauntlet in tow. They would immediately transport the gauntlet to the Numbani Heritage Museum, stay for the duration of the Unity Day celebrations, and be present as a precaution during the event, and then transport the gauntlet back to the watchpoint. It seemed to be a simple enough assignment.

“Question!”

Satya turned to see Junkrat with his hand in the air.

Winston frowned slightly. “Junkrat. Is there a problem?”

“Yeah. The fuck do I do with Mullock?” He pointed at the ginger tabby on the table in front of him, curled up on top of his unopened briefing packet.

Winston paused, opened his mouth, thought the better of it, then paused again. “Um.” He said. “Good question. I don’t really want to leave you here on your own just so you can feed the cat.”

Junkrat shot Mullock a dirty look. “Y’great bloody lump.” He muttered, and Satya had to stifle a smile. Her smile faded when he looked up and met her gaze; he'd been sneaking glances at her all afternoon, and she didn't quite know how to react to it.

“Brigitte arrives tomorrow.” Reinhardt spoke up. “She will get here after we leave but perhaps she can feed ze cat?”

“That’s a good idea.” Winston looked relieved. “Brigitte won’t mind?”

“Not at all! She loves animals.”

“Well, then, it’s settled.” Winston turned to Junkrat. “When we leave, make sure… Mullock… is in the rec room, so Brigitte can get to him.”

“Roighto.” Junkrat said, as Mullock rolled over and put his paws in the air with a yawn.

After the briefing concluded, Satya accompanied Mei to the rec room, where most of the team had congregated, all deep in discussion about Numbani. She settled into one of the free armchairs while others sat in similar chairs or sat together on the squashy sofa.

“Sounds like fun to me.” Mercy mused. “Provided Talon doesn’t show up, of course. Numbani is a beautiful city. I can’t wait to go back.”

“I have never been.” Hanzo said, voice as slow and moderated as usual. “It will be interesting to see the City of Harmony in person.”

“I went once with Blackwatch.” McCree piped up, kicking his legs up on the coffee table, disturbing Mullock, who hissed and moved down to the end of the table. “Was a small group of omnics kickin’ up trouble. Had to put ‘em down for the good of everyone else.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Satya noticed Junkrat nodding approvingly.

“Well, I don’t know much about Numbani.” Said Hana, sipping from a glass of water. “What is this ‘Unity Day’ thing?”

“It’s a day they hold to celebrate the end of the Omnic Crisis.” Pharah said. “They call it ‘Unity Day’ to celebrate the successful merging of human and omnic culture.”

“They _what_.”

Satya reflexively turned at Junkrat’s flat statement, and found him sitting tense and suspicious in his chair besides Roadhog, who seemed outwardly calm but was most probably just as wary as his boss.

“Oh.” Mercy attempted a light and airy smile. “You don’t know about Numbani? It was joint settled by human and omnics. That’s why they call it the City of Harmony.”

Junkrat’s eyes narrowed, and Satya noted the grenade in his hand. He was spinning it slowly in his palm, apparently thinking things through. “They got lotsa bots there?”

“At least half the population is omnic.” Pharah confirmed. “Helix has contracts there so I’ve been once to guard some.”

Junkrat’s lip curled, as if he found the idea of guarding omnics distasteful. Which, Satya reminded herself, he most certainly did.

“The omnics there aren’t _bad_ , y’know.” McCree attempted peacemaking. “They’re quiet. Calm-like. Just wanna get on with their lives.”

Junkrat scoffed. “Since when do _bots_ have _lives?”_

“Hey, Junkrat, that’s unfair-” Mei began, her little robot buzzing angrily over her shoulder, only to find herself interrupted by Torbjörn.

“I’m with the boy.” He said, a scowl on his face. “They’re machines. They might _think_ , but they can’t _live_.”

Satya was momentarily glad that Genji and Zenyatta hadn’t come to the rec room.

Junkrat nodded, flashing a grin at Torbjörn. “Glad t’see someone with sense ‘round here.” His words were punctuated with bubbling laugher, which helped take the sting out of them.

“So you don’t want to go?” Hana asked, propping her chin on her hand.

Junkrat looked thoughtful. “Dunno. Wouldn’t like t’miss out on a chance t’make some Talon fucks go explodey, but a _whole city_ of tin cans? Don’t sound like fun t’me.”

“Well, you don’t have to decide right now.” Said Mercy, evidently seeking to soothe things over. “There’s time to think about it.” She turned to Reinhardt. “Have you called Brigritte? She will be here in time to feed Mullock, won’t she?”

Reinhardt made a very German sound. “I forgot! I will have to call her right away.” He got up, phone in hand, and strode from the room.

“Have you met Brigitte?” Asked Hana curiously.

“I have.” Mercy nodded. “She’s a sweet girl, and quite capable of handling Reinhardt.”

They all shared a chuckle over that.

“What are your thoughts on Numbani, Symmetra?” Ana asked her, and Satya looked around, slightly startled. She had been content to listen, and hadn’t expected to be asked anything.

“As a matter of fact-” She began, collecting her thoughts. “-I designed a hotel in Numbani a few years ago. I wouldn’t mind a chance to visit the tower and see how it is holding up.”

“Well, I’d imagine.” Ana snickered. “As all hard light is wont to do, yes?”

Satya smiled slightly. “Certainly.”

“A whole hotel?” Hana tucked her legs up under her and grinned. “It’s pretty wild how you do that. You gotta make me a house or something.”

Satya allowed a smile to grace her lips. “You have to pay me first.”

Hana giggled, as did quite a few of the others. “What’s the asking price for a house?”

Satya crossed her legs, placing her prosthetic on her knee. “That depends on what sort you want.”

“Oh, oh! I want three stories, and a tower, an indoor pool, and a slide coming downstairs.” Hana giggled and set her glass down. “Can you manage all that?”

Satya’s smile turned wry. “Very easily.”

“Your hard light is actually really cool.” Mei enthused. “I haven’t really thought about what you can do outside of combat.”

“Right!” Hana agreed. “It’s awesome.”

“Woulda been ‘andy to ‘ave you along that time we crashed in the alps.” Piped up Tracer. “Remember, Angela? ‘Ad to wait out the night in what was left of the plane. Bloody _freezin’_ , it was.”

Mercy nodded. “It certainly was. Though…” Her next comment was directed at Satya. “Could you have made something in the alps? Wouldn’t it be harder to be stuck half way up a mountain?”

Satya shook her head. “No, we were taught how to build on all types of terrain. I admit I’ve never had reason to craft anything anything halfway up a mountain, but I could do it. I doubt I’d create a five-star hotel, but I could very easily make a heated building.”

Tracer’s eyes bugged out. _“Heated?”_

Satya crossed her legs. “Of course. Heating systems are not at all difficult to construct. All Vishkar buildings come with heating, air conditioning, electricity and plumbing.”

“But… how does that work?” Hana asked, tilting her head to the side. “Can hard light make electricity? How does _plumbing_ work?”

Satya considered the question for a moment. “I _can_ make a hard light generator, which is what I’d use in this mountain scenario, but for my buildings, I meant that all the wiring is made from hard light, and once the building is complete, we connect it to the external power grid. Plumbing works in much the same way; architechs craft all the necessary components, and the building is connected to the local water supply afterwards.”

“They think of everything.” Ana chuckled.

“That’s it.” Tracer tapped the accelerator strapped to her chest. “I’m goin’ back to the alps and you’re comin’ with me.”

Everyone laughed at that. Pharah however, looked suspicious. “So, wait. Let me get something straight. You’re an architech?”

Satya, bemused as to what Pharah was getting at, nodded. “Yes.”

“And you’re basically a normal archi _tect_ , only you build your buildings yourself?”

“Yes.”

“So why did Vishkar develop things like teleporters and energy drains? That doesn’t seem like the usual tools of an architect.”

Satya paused. That was a very loaded question, and she attempted to come up with a natural sounding answer. “Well…”

“Ooh, you see that? She’s hiding _something_.” Lúcio leaned forwards. “Tell us, Symmetra. Why _do_ you need a teleporter?”

Satya narrowed her eyes at them both. This was _extremely_ inconvenient, but the one thing she couldn’t let slip was that Vishkar occasionally utilised a little breaking and entering. While she knew it was for a good reason, Lúcio wouldn’t see that. Especially if he found out about Calado. “Convenience.” She said rather stiffly, and worked to move her tone back to something unworried and carefree. “When constructing something, say, a skyscraper, it’s much easier to teleport from floor to floor, especially if we haven’t constructed the elevators yet.”

“Well, that’s a good excuse.” Pharah leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. “But what about the energy drain? You can’t tell me you need _that_ for building a skyscraper.”

Satya frowned slightly, then remembered herself and smoothed her expression. It was too late; from the look on Lúcio’s face, he’d seen it and was sure he was on to something. “No, you don’t necessarily need that aspect of a photon projector to build a skyscraper.” She said delicately. “But I might remind you that while we are primarily in the architecture business, we are also have departments dedicated to tech development. Hard light is a wonderful resource; we want to uncover what else it can do.”

Pharah dropped her chin. “And that includes weapons?”

“No.” Satya smiled carefully. “Vishkar is not in the habit of creating _more_ wars. Draining someone’s energy doesn’t harm them; they’ll wake up a few hours later feeling tired. I have been sent to unstable areas to build, you know. It’s a matter of my personal safety.”

Ana clicked her tongue then. “Leave her alone, you two.” She said, addressing Pharah and Lúcio. “You don’t have to give her the third degree all day long.”

Satya nodded. “Thank you, Ana.”

“Well, we’re leavin’ at the asscrack of dawn so I’m gonna go pack and get some shut-eye.” McCree peeled himself up off the lounge. “Later, ya’ll.”

Some of the others also left, and Satya took it as an opportunity to excuse herself as well. She headed back to her room, and, just as McCree had said he was going to, pulled out her suitcase from beneath her bed. Packing was a calm, methodical thing, and was something she had done so many times before for her various trips that she no longer really needed to put much thought into it; muscle memory told her precisely what she needed. It left her room to think. It would be almost better if the Junkers didn’t go to Numbani, she mused. She just knew that one or even both of them was going to take major offence at the omnics in the city and start an international incident. Well, hopefully Winston had something planned to keep them contained. Satya shook her head slightly and continued to pack; she had an early start and a long trip ahead of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry folks but Satya is dangerously close to slipping back into denial
> 
> poor Jamie - first he gets utterly destroyed by Satya and then he finds out they're going to omnic central
> 
> also while I was writing this all I could think was 'DOM SATYA DOM SATYA' so uh. yeah. that's a thing Jamie has to look forward to~


	37. Setting Up Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team arrive in Numbani and begin preparing for their mission, and Junkrat finds himself where he least would have expected.

They left, just as McCree had predicted, at the arsecrack of dawn.

Junkrat stifled a yawn as he jiggled his leg absentmindedly, head pillowed up against the edge of his seat. Most of the others were either sleeping or close to it. Junkrat was pretty exhausted; he’d been up late in the workshop. He’d thought it was fine at the time, but now he was kinda regretting that decision. Roadhog sat next to him, reading a book, dutifully buckled in across two seats instead of one. Mullock hadn’t been impressed at being left behind, and in the end, had required locking in the rec room.

Junkrat wasn’t quite sure what to think of their destination; the fact that he was riding with a bot (Zenyatta was situated up the other end of the dropship) to visit a whole city of bots wasn’t something that really appealed to him. On the other hand, he lived to get out of the base and go on a mission, because he wasn’t permitted to use explosives at the watchpoint. Well, outside of testing, but that gets a little boring after a while. Junkrat was keen to get in a fight and blow some dropkicks to smithereens. Hopefully, some of those drongos might even be tin cans.

The thought made him smile blissfully, imagining the way twisted, hot metal would rain down through the smoke after he’d stuffed a grenade or two behind the gills of some ugly tin can, and Junkrat turned to see if Hog was gonna be in any way inclined to make conversation for this very long trip.

“Oi. Roadie.”

His whisper at first went unheeded, though he knew for a fact Roadhog had heard him. Junkrat scowled and tried again.

“ _Oi_. Hog.”

No response other than Roadhog’s measured breathing and the casual turn of a page.

Junkrat twisted his mouth into a grimace and jabbed Roadhog sharply in the gut with his elbow. “Fuckin’ bastard.”

Roadhog made an amused grunt then, and finally tipped his masked head to the side.

“How long’s it gonna take t’get there?” Junkrat asked, now he had his attention proper.

“Dunno.” Roadhog replied, seemingly unconcerned. He set his book back in place atop his enormous gut and turned the page.

“Whadaya reckon ‘bout these bots? Numbani people must be fucked in the head, I reckon.” Junkrat twisted in his seat to peer suspiciously out the window as Roadhog merely grunted in reply. As of now, they were passing over the ocean, and the sheer drop to the dark expanse of blue made him scowl. He didn’t like oceans. Too much water, and none of it drinkable.

“Tell ya what, don’t like this ocean bullshit either. Too… deep.” Junkrat stared down at the waves for a moment longer, then shook his head slightly. “Cityslickers go swimmin’ in that shit, don’t they?” A concerned sort of giggle crept out of his throat. “Crazy fuckers.”

Roadhog made a sound of acknowledgement as he turned the page.

“Don’t see the appeal.” His brows furrowed as he spotted a boat further out to sea. “What’s t’stop that shitty little tinny from endin’ arse up in the water, an’ those blokes sleepin’ with the fishes?”

“Nothin’.”

“Cityslickers do some strange shit.” Junkrat angled himself so he could see further to the side, where the coast they’d left behind was still slightly visible, though fading rapidly. He could, however, still see the white dots bobbing on the waves that indicated the presence of boats, which was bewildering to him. Why on earth would so many cityslickers want to go near the ocean, with its nasty smell, bitey things with teeth, seaweed, and above all, _salty_ water? It boggled the mind. It was still a bit of a curiosity to him, since he’d never really been to the beach since becoming a Junker, and he didn’t remember if he had when he was little. Junkrat chased that thought away with a grimace and focused on the first time he’d really seen the ocean.

He wasn’t entirely sure how old he’d been, perhaps a little younger than twenty or even eighteen, because he still had both arms and legs, and he’d decided to try his luck up along the coast. After a fuckin’ long trip in a ute stolen from a bloke back in Junkertown, he’d reached the coast of Queensland. He’d abandoned the ute (it was very obviously Junker in origin), and stolen something… a little fancier.

It had been his first ride in one of those fancy hover cars, and Junkrat remembered it fondly. He hadn’t had a clue how to get the fancy tech to work, so he’d had to drive it rather than use autopilot, but he’d still been floating in the fuckin’ air, so he wasn’t complaining. This had been before he’d found treasure in the omnium, so he was relativity unknown, then. _Then_. A grin stretched Junkrat’s lips as he remembered it. He’d made himself a very nice little hideout in a native bush reserve, and lived in the rocks and trees at night. The petty crime he’d committed then had led to his fourth arrest, one skilfully evaded by managing to chuck the grenade he’d been packing in his shorts into the divvy van and scarpering as the coppers ran for cover.

He’d seen the ocean for the first time on that trip. Junkrat hadn’t even expected to see it; he’d been cruising down the highway in his stolen car when the trees had given way to the glimmer of blue sea beyond. At first, he’d thought it was a dam and kept driving, but curiosity had drawn him to hook a left and check it out. He’d arrived at a little car park jammed with people wearing very little clothing, and at first all he’d been able to do was sit there and stare.

_So much water._

His first emotions had been utter awe, and then the second anger. Cityslickers had all this water, and all they were doing was _jumping_ in it? They didn’t think to share? He’d been outraged; furious for every day he and everyone else in the Outback had struggled to find water, digging holes in dry creek beds and setting up convoluted contraptions to catch morning dew (if you were lucky) or fresh rainwater (if you were even luckier). Rainwater tanks were precious and highly guarded commodities, and the cityslickers had all this just lying there, unprotected? Junkrat had had the thought then to stick it to the government and drink from their fancy water reserve anyway.

He’d gotten out of his stolen car and marched determinedly down to the water’s edge, where Junkrat had knelt at the edge and watched the small waves running in and out, which had entranced him for a while, ignoring the odd looks he was getting. No creek or dam he’d seen had waves like this. Finally, he’d gathered a handful of water (easy to do back then, before he’d acquired metal fingers), and brought it to his lips… only to spit it out in a hurry.

That was the day he’d discovered that oceans were made of salt water, and he was still bitter that all his fantasies of filling barrels and barrels of the stuff to take home had popped like a soap bubble. No, Junkrat did _not_ like the ocean.

By the time they started to near the African coast, Junkrat had been fidgeting for a long while. He’d already completed the unfinished mine he’d brought along, and had ended up buried in his notebook, sketching the design for a new frag mine and getting into it enough that he didn’t really register what was going on around him.

All of a sudden, he was on the receiving end of an elbow to the guts. Junkrat jumped, grabbed his notebook close, and scowled at Roadhog.

“Oi, ya fuckin’ drongo, what’s that for-”

Roadhog grunted quietly. “Shut up.” He lifted one finger, and Junkrat focused on it and then snapped into an awareness of what was around him. Roadhog was giving him the signal – keep your mouth shut and your eyes open, because there’s something worth seeing nearby. Roadhog’s finger drifted to the left ever so casually, and Junkrat nonchalantly followed the motion with his eyes, trying to figure out what in the hell Roadie had spotted in the dropship, of all places. The signal was usually used when one of them had spotted their latest target, or if they were on the run and had spotted a copper.

Junkrat’s brows furrowed in confusion, because Roadhog was definitely signalling him to look at Symmetra, and for the life of him he couldn’t work out why. He studied her for a moment – she wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. Satya was just sitting there in her seat, legs crossed, an intensely thoughtful look on her face as she fiddled with something in her lap.

He glanced a Roadhog and shrugged just a tiny bit, and he saw Hog’s shoulders move in a silent sigh of irritation, before he signalled a little more insistently, and leaned down a fraction.

“Look what she’s got.” He rumbled quietly, and Junkrat frowned harder. What was Symmetra holding that had caught Hog’s interest? For a long moment, he didn’t see anything, because her hands obscured the object, but then she absently flipped it over and in that brief flash of movement, he caught sight of what it was.

Junkrat leaned back in his seat, stunned. The little circular object in Symmetra’s hands was quite familiar – a handmade patch embroidered with a wicked grin.

“Oi, the _fuck_ -” He started, forgetting where he was, but found himself abruptly cut off when Roadhog’s entire hand clamped over his face and stifled his words and his airway. “Geroffme, ya bastard!” Satya was momentarily forgotten as Junkrat tussled with the large hand and eventually peeled it from his face, only to find pretty much everyone else in the ship watching them.

Junkrat attempted nonchalance, leaning back in his seat and flashing what he thought was a winning smile across the aisle. McCree looked amused from his seat beside Mercy, and beside her, Symmetra was watching with a slightly bemused expression on her face, her hands now empty. Junkrat frowned at the realisation. Either he was hallucinating or she’d really been holding one of his patches in her hands. Why did she have one of his patches? Realisation gripped him; hadn’t he noticed one had gone missing after he’d mended his shorts the last time? And Satya had been in the workshop that day. She’d even picked up the patches and looked at them. Why had she _kept_ one of them?

And, even if she had kept one of them, why on earth had she brought it along to their trip to Numbani, and why was she playing with it? No matter what kind of theory Junkrat came up with, it didn’t seem to fit. He fidgeted worse than ever then, fingers drumming on his thighs, antsy and scatterbrained as he wondered if he ought to possibly ask her. Symmetra. Satya. He frowned, distracted briefly as he realised he really needed to make up his mind whether to call her Satya or Symmetra. She’d given him permission to use her real name, technically, but he wasn’t sure if the fact that she’d caught him drawing her negated that permission. After all, she hadn’t called him Jamison again. The thought was enough to make him feel gloomy as Tracer came over the intercom and announced their descent into Numbani.

 

* * *

 

Numbani would have been great if it weren’t for the bots. As it was, Junkrat was plastered up against the window of the bus he was currently in, watching all the omnics pass by on the street. Humans just walked right past the bots without a care in the world, and it was so _strange_. Hands pressed to glass, Junkrat’s brows snapped together as they passed by a young woman who was _holding hands_ with a bot, smiling and laughing as she looked up at the robotic face. He squished his nose up against the window for a better look as they drove past, and then turned to Roadhog.

“I don’t like this, Hog.” He muttered, and Roadhog grunted in agreement. “Too many tin cans. That sheila’s _datin’_ one.”

Roadhog’s grunt was this time one of disgust, and Junkrat resumed his intent stare through the window. Numbani was, if you ignored the bots, an amazing place. It was excruciatingly modern, with tall skyscrapers that stretched like bony fingers towards the sky. He’d have had a lot of fun here, if it weren’t for the _bots_. He and Hog hadn’t made it to Africa during their crime spree, and so he was betting that they’d be relatively unknown here, and free to wander. Numbani looked wealthy, and so his fingers were tingling at the thought of so many fat wallets just _ripe_ for the picking.

He spied a very large woman dressed in elegant clothes; Junkrat, still following the laws of Junkertown, assumed that because she was fat she had plenty to eat, and therefore was richer than the others. His mind ticking over, Junkrat stared at her as she waited at the footpath and they at a red light, coming up with a plan. First, he’d follow her home, very casually. Then, his target acquired, he’d see what sort of security she had, and scope out her patterns; find out when she wasn’t home. Then, he’d break in and rob her blind. The though made him laugh to himself, and Junkrat didn’t know how strange a picture he made; giggling almost hysterically while staring out the window at a fat lady he didn’t know.

The red light turned green, and the bus, piloted by Tracer, moved on and left the fat lady behind. Junkrat gave up on his plan to follow her home and cast his gaze about for a new target instead. He didn’t find any really good ones, unless you counted all the bots he could have blown to smithereens, but Winston had insisted he put all his explosives in the luggage compartment, and then Roadhog had forcibly removed the grenade he’d tried to keep on his person. Junkrat had sulked for a bit but then cheered up as they moved into the city centre.

Numbani was certainly getting ready for Unity Day; city workers were busy stringing up decorations, and they had to take a few detours due to closed streets in which floats, stages and vendors were being assembled. They arrived at the museum shortly after, and Junkrat stared with awe and something close to worry; this was by far the classiest, most expensive, snobbiest, luxurious place he’d _ever_ seen. Much nicer than the museum he and Roadie had robbed in London. Well, it was much more modern, at least.

It was hot, too; according to Winston, this part of the world had two seasons – Wet, and Dry. It was currently dry, and very warm. They all had shed their winter clothes the further away from Europe they got, and Junkrat was very pleased to be back in his preferred outfit of shorts.

Roadhog allowed him his duffel back when they had all trooped off the bus, though Junkrat didn’t take the whole thing; he stuffed the essentials into his satchel and his pockets, and stowed the rest. The museum curator and the head of security had descended on them not two seconds after arrival, and while the discussion they were having with Winston about the safety of the Doomfist gauntlet and what exactly they were going to do with it may have been riveting, Junkrat didn’t bother to listen, so curious was he to find out what was in the crates sitting in a shadowy corner, a tarp half thrown over them. This was a museum filled with valuable things; therefore, those crates could also contain valuable things. He attempted to sneak over and initially, he succeeded, and set about attempting to figure out how to open the crates quietly enough that he could see what was in them without attracting unwanted attention.

It didn’t go to plan.

During one of his frequent checks to make sure he was still unnoticed, Junkrat realised Roadhog was blatantly staring. Once he’d caught Roadie’s eye, the big man jerked his head to the side, and Junkrat followed his gaze and then recoiled slightly.

Symmetra.

She was frowning at him, arms folded, and as he watched, she tipped her head to the side slightly. A clear _‘come here’._ Junkrat frowned and drummed his fingers lightly on his thigh. _Busted_. He didn’t exactly fancy her spilling the beans to Winston and the others (Ana might take his arm again, which would be horrendous in a city full of bots), so he stifled an annoyed sigh and crept back across the underground loading dock to the bus. Satya’s stern expression turned to something approving, which made him grin, until she turned back to the museum curator, who was still babbling on, and proceeded to ignore him.

They left shortly after that; more and more museum security guards appeared, and Junkrat began to feel rather uncomfortable; he’d more or less conditioned himself to be in a constant state of ‘fight or flight’ when around members of authority, and he knew Roadie was feeling it too. Therefore, it was a relief when they left, and 76, Tracer and Winston went with the curator and security guards with the gauntlet so it could be installed in the exhibit; the rest of them were led to the guards quarters, which was the place where they’d be staying. The rooms were nice, and they had a sort of common room to themselves at the end of their private wing, but Junkrat couldn’t help but feel he’d wandered right into a trap, a fly that had blundered straight into a web thinking it’d make a wonderful home, and all the while the fat spider was lurking on the periphery, biding its time.

The thought made him go to his duffel and sling a few more grenades about his person, and set up a few more traps around his bed. The rooms themselves were nice, though rather than have private rooms, they had proper barracks; long lines of beds down the walls, divided only by a curtain, all of which were pulled back and fastened to the walls with ties. They reminded him of the watchpoint a little, with their clinically modern lines, only the museum didn’t have Athena snarking about in the walls.

“Hey now, Ratboy.” McCree drawled from where he was sitting on his bed cleaning his gun. “Mind scootin’ those traps over just a smidge? Don’t rightly feel like losin’ a toe when I’m just goin’ to take a leak.”

Junkrat considered; his dog traps were encroaching on McCree’s space, for his bed was right next to his. “Fair ‘nuff.”

“Do you really need that many, Rat?” Hana was lolling on her bed; hers was opposite McCree’s, on the left of the room rather than the right.

“Yes.” Junkrat said obstinately. “Y’reckon I’m gonna stay here, in a nest full of baby coppers, _without_ any?”

Hana laughed at his term for the security guards, and was just about to say something else when Winston arrived.

“Can everyone listen up, please?” He called, and Junkrat figured he might as well. “Listen carefully now, because we’ll be going out on patrols in a minute.”

“So soon?” Tracer asked, face screwed up doubtfully. “We’ve barely been ‘ere a minute!”

“I know, but the gauntlet is our top priority.” Winston continued. “We need to ensure the compound is secure. Therefore, we’ll be dividing into pairs and checking the perimeters, defence, looking for weak spots, that sort of thing.” He paused. “You remember the training exercises we’ve been doing?”

Junkrat remembered; they’d been paired off with people they didn’t normally associate with as much and made to cooperate. He’d been landed with Pharah and they’d both been miserable. He narrowed his eyes at Winston; Junkrat didn’t like where this was going.

“We’ll be continuing that here, right now.” Winston chuckled slightly at the look on some of their faces. “Don’t complain; it’s better than winding up stuck with someone you don’t know how to work with while under fire. Now of course some of you already know how to play nice with the others, so you’ll be fine.”

“Same partners as before?” Pharah asked, arms folded tensely. She shot him a look, and Junkrat grinned back.

“No, different partners. I’ve got it all worked out.” Winston hefted his tablet. “Okay, Hana, you’ll be joining Jack in the Doomfist exhibit.”

Junkrat stifled a grin as Hana’s eyes widened; 76 was notorious for grumping at her bubbly cheer.

“Ana, you’ll go with Zenyatta. Angela, you’ll go with Jesse. Fareeha, you’re with Roadhog.” Junkrat snorted a giggle into his fist, then looked up worriedly. If Pharah was going with Hog, who was gonna be his partner? “Genji, you’re with Torbjörn. Lena, you’re with Hanzo. Junkrat, you’re with Mei.”

_Aw, shit. Snowball._

Mei turned to frown slightly in his direction, and then gave a slight sigh of resignation. Junkrat grinned back.

“Lúcio, you’re with Symmetra.”

This time, Junkrat really did laugh, because the expression of pure horror on Lúcio’s face was too much to contain.

 _“What!”_ The DJ exclaimed, and Winston grinned.

“And that reaction proves we really do need this sort of training. You’re with Symmetra. No complaining.”

Lúcio complained anyway, muttering under his breath and shooting Symmetra dirty looks. Junkrat found it amusing; Lúcio didn’t mind being in the same room as her anymore, but together? One on one, working together on a mission? Yep, that was exactly the sort of thing that wasn’t going to work.

Winston finished going through the pairs and then told them all to change if necessary; Junkrat lounged on his bed instead. They had maybe ten minutes before they departed, and so he dragged his duffel closer and checked and double checked his supply. He chained his RIPtire to the bedpost so no one could steal it, and then chained his duffel to the tyre, then set up some traps around them for good measure. Junkrat nodded to himself approvingly; no one was gonna steal _his_ stock.

He became aware of Lúcio running from person to person – those who were still in the room, at least – but he didn’t pay much attention until he got to Ana, whose bed was close enough that Junkrat could hear what they were saying.

“ _Please_ swap with me, Ana. You like Symmetra, don’t you?”

Ana looked amused. “I do like her.”

Lúcio’s relief was palpable. “Good! You can swap with me, and I’ll go with Zenyatta.”

Ana’s smirk grew wider, and Junkrat paused what he was doing, curious to see where this was going. “I don’t think so.” She reached out and patted Lúcio on the head. “I’ve done my time, now it’s your turn to suffer.” Junkrat took that to mean that this kind of activity was something Ana had done before.

Lúcio made a very dramatic noise. “Please!”

Ana raised a brow. “You talk to her. Not a lot, granted, but I’ve seen you. Why can you suddenly not tolerate her?”

Lúcio grimaced. “Look. Talking to her like that isn’t the same as this. I’ve barely had a proper conversation with her and you know it, and I really don’t want to! I don’t want to get stuck with her for hours – she’ll be _impossible_ , and I don’t want to associate with Vishkar more than I have to. Now _please_ \- I’ve asked everyone else!”

Ana grinned at him. “Have you?”

Lúcio stopped and looked around, and then Junkrat blinked as the DJ all but threw himself onto the end of his bed, just barely avoiding a trap.

“Junkrat! My buddy, my pal-” Lúcio sat up, a wide grin on his face. “-we’re good mates, yeah?”

Junkrat raised a brow. He knew where this was going. “Yeah...?” He replied, drawing the sound out.

Lúcio looked even more pleased. “Will you swap with me? _Please_ , man! Don’t make me spend three hours with Symmetra!”

Junkrat giggled. “Y’know she don’t think much of me either?” The words almost made him scowl, and he had to work to keep his grin in place.

Lúcio nodded and shrugged. “Well, yeah, but you’re higher up in her books than me and we both know it.” He clasped his hands together. “C’mon, man! Throw me a bone. Take one for the team! Take one for me!”

The idea of swapping with Lúcio and going on patrol alone with Symmetra was both a scary and pleasant thought. He’d have jumped at the chance before, but now, after she’d found his notebook? Junkrat did not particularly want to be alone with her now. Not for a while, anyway.

“Sorry, mate.” He replied after some thought. “Snowball ain’t half as scary.”

Across the room, Ana scoffed, and then she grinned. “How about payment?”

That caught his attention. Junkrat turned to face her, brows raised. “Yeah?”

Lúcio nodded eagerly and attempted to speak, but Ana held up her hand to silence him. Junkrat watched her as she eyed him thoughtfully, and then, after a long moment, she spoke.

“Fifty dollars.”

Junkrat scoffed. “Y’must be jokin’.”

“One hundred.”

Junkrat shook his head. “For ‘ _Metra?_ Too low.”

“One fifty.”

Junkrat grinned lazily. “Two.”

Ana grinned. “Too high, you mean.”

Junkrat shrugged then, affecting nonchalance. “Three.”

“Two fifty.”

“Five.”

Ana folded her arms, but she was grinning. Beside her, Lúcio looked hopeful. “Four.”

Junkrat grinned. “Four fifty.”

Ana shook her head. “Four twenty-five.”

Junkrat rolled his shoulders. “Six.”

She scowled. “Five.”

Five hundred dollars. Junkrat considered. That was decent enough payment, he supposed. He inclined his head briefly. “Five.” He agreed.

Beside her, Lúcio frowned. “You’re a terrible negotiator, grandma.” He said, and Ana cackled.

“It isn’t _my_ money.” She laughed, clapping Lúcio on the shoulder. “Pay up. I believe our Junker friend here will want payment before, not after.”

Lúcio screwed up his face, evidently weighing the pros and cons. Keep his five hundred bucks… or spend an afternoon with Symmetra? Evidently, his disgust for the latter won out. “Ugh. All right.” He pulled out his wallet. “I don’t have five hundred in cash, but I got two fifty. I can give you the rest later?”

Junkrat reached out and pocketed the cash. “Cheers.”

Ana grinned at them both. “Do yourselves a favour, boys – go out on patrol and _then_ swap. She’s a stickler for rules, you know. You don’t want Winston catching you.” She paused for a moment. “Or Jack. He’ll give you an earful.”

Lúcio nodded fervently. “I suppose I can stomach five minutes with her.”

Ana’s eyes crinkled with mirth. “She isn’t that bad.”

“It’s not her, not really.” Lúcio said hotly. “It’s what she _stands_ for. I won’t associate with her more than I have to while she’s Vishkar’s lapdog.”

Junkrat finished flicking through his money and tucked it carefully away as the doors opened and people began trickling in. Junkrat caught sight of Satya and froze, brows drawing together, because she’d changed out of the neat blouse and slacks she’d travelled in and was back in her blue uniform, instantly catching his eye as she cocked her hip to the side while going through her bag. The action only drew more attention to her legs in that slitted skirt and thigh-high stockings, and Junkrat began to regret the fact that he could be so easily bought. He noticed her take something round and circular from her bag and slip it into her new addition – she wore a slim belt around her waist with pouches containing – well, he didn’t know what she had in there, and assumed it was something to do with whatever Winston had been planning with her earlier. He wouldn’t have recognised the small round thing if he hadn’t seen it with such clarity on the dropship – she was taking his patch with her. Junkrat would have wondered why, but they were packing up and shipping out with such rapidity he didn’t really have the time.

He’d decided, in the interest of blending in, to leave his frag launcher behind. The weapon would most probably draw the interest of the security guards, and interest could lead to recognition. His satchel firmly in place and bombs hitched to his harness (he’d chosen grenades that didn’t look like traditional grenades, which ought to help him blend in), Junkrat went to stand beside Mei, as everyone else similarly partnered up.

“G’day.” He said brightly, and Mei smiled in return.

“Good afternoon.” She replied, but didn’t elaborate. Junkrat began to feel slightly glad he was swapping with Lúcio – at least he could hold a conversation with Symmetra. The fact was, he hadn’t really spoken to Mei all that much – she wasn’t often in the workshop, so their paths didn’t cross as much.

“All right, everyone.” Winston said, raising his tablet. “You all know where you’ll be patrolling?”

There was a murmur of assent – Athena had sent their personalised instructions to their phones a little earlier.

“Good luck then.” Winston headed out through the door first, and everyone else followed suite, heading in whichever direction they’d been instructed to go. Junkrat waved at Roadhog as he followed Mei, and Roadie made a threatening gesture – _don’t steal anything._ Junkrat waved his hand exasperatedly. Who did Hog think he was?

Junkrat was content to follow Mei for the moment, looking about curiously as they passed through one floor of exhibits and headed for the west wing. Despite making a promise to both himself and Roadie, Mei had to drag him away from more than one particularly enticing display.

They reached the area they were supposed to be checking out, and his phone vibrated in his pocket. Tugging it out, he saw the message was from Lúcio.

 **{57395} Lúcio  
** Meet me in the lobby!

Junkrat scowled; texting anyone while Roadie wasn’t there to translate was always a bit dicey, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten the gist of things. He quickly typed in a reply.

 **{11873} Junkrat  
** Ok

Junkrat turned to Mei then, who was scanning the surrounding area with a pair of binoculars.

“Oi, Snowball.” He called, and she turned around.

“What is it?”

“I’m gonna scout down the hall a bit.” Junkrat pointed to a doorway just out of sight. “Back soon.”

Mei nodded. “All right, but don’t take too long. We have to check the perimeter.”

Junkrat nodded and promptly scarpered. Rather than head along the hall that he’d told Mei he was going to, he headed back down the stairs to the lobby, where he found Lúcio waiting. The DJ rushed up to him.

“Where’s Mei?” He asked urgently. “Man, Symmetra’s a pain. She got all snippy when I said I was just going around the corner.”

Junkrat sniggered. “Snowball’s up those stairs an’ up the back of the west wing. She’s checkin’ the perimeter. Where’s ‘Metra?”

“She’s up on the roof.” Lúcio pointed. “Take that elevator all the way to the top floor, then turn left. Big fire escape up top. Can’t miss it.” Junkrat nodded, and Lúcio clapped him on the arm. “Thanks for doing this, man. I appreciate it.”

Junkrat grinned. “Pay makes anythin’ sweet.” He considered and made a face, hamming it up a bit in front of Lúcio. “Well, most things.”

Lúcio laughed. “Oh, man. Good luck!” With that, they parted, and Junkrat headed towards the lift as Lúcio jogged up the stairs. Junkrat didn’t like lifts much, (or any enclosed spaces) but he’d gotten used to the one at the watchpoint, and so managed to use this one without trouble. It also helped that he got to the top floor without anyone else wanting to get on. The top two floors were actually car parks, with the museum tucked beneath them, and so the floor was relatively empty aside from some people entering and leaving the museum. Junkrat turned left, and, as promised, spotted a fire escape leading up onto the roof properly. He squared his shoulders and started towards it; Symmetra was _not_ going to be happy with him for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotta love a Junker who'll do pretty much anything for money, eh? 
> 
> In other news, Lucio will be in deep shit just as soon as Winston catches up with him
> 
> Also, Ana is straight up an enabler


	38. Swapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya finds out that Lucio and Junkrat swapped. Is not overly impressed.

Satya was not having fun. First, she’d been paired up with Lúcio for the first half of the Numbani mission. Then, he’d up and disappeared, no doubt deciding he didn’t want to spend the time with her. She scowled into the void at the edge of the roof, and set about constructing another security camera. While the museum certainly had security systems of its own, she’d conferred with Winston and the curator and he’d asked her to set up her own, just in case the museum was compromised.

It was for that reason that she was setting up cameras guarded by a turret all around the perimeter of the roof, and would then head down throughout the rest of the museum to place them at opportune points. Well, she would when Lúcio got back here. The whole _point_ of this exercise was to improve relations amongst them all, and he just upped and _left?_

 _Just wait until I catch up with him,_ she thought viciously. _I’ll give him something to complain about._

At that moment, she heard footsteps clanking up the fire escape. Guests of the museum weren’t permitted up here, so logic informed her that it was Lúcio, come crawling back at last. Satya kept her back to him, weaving the wireframe of a turret between her fingers as she happily pictured Winston’s reaction to his running off.

“Where have you been?” She snapped. “You were supposed to stay here until I finished these turrets.”

“Er… g’day.”

Satya froze. That was not Lúcio’s voice. Drawing the turret into existence, she adhered it to the edge of the building and then pivoted slowly, eyes narrowed and hands on her hips, the better to take in the sight of Junkrat standing at the top of the fire escape.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, momentarily distracted. “Where’s Mei?”

Junkrat whistled a brief yet sheepish tune. “Oh, y’know. She’s down in the west wing.”

Satya moved a few steps towards him, and Junkrat straightened out of his slouch, a cautious look on his face. “Why are you here? Has something happened?” She arrived in front of him and peered down the fire escape. “Did you happen to see Lúcio, by any chance?”

Something odd crossed over his face, punctuated by a broad grin. “I did. Met him in the lobby.”

_The lobby? That was nowhere near where he was supposed to be!_

“What was he doing in the lobby?” Satya demanded, folding her arms. Lúcio was in deep, deep trouble now.

“Well y’see, we, uh, swapped.”

She raised a brow. “Swapped?”

Junkrat nodded, his grin growing wider as his tongue curled around his golden tooth. “Swapped. He’s gone with Snowball, an’ I’m here.”

Satya was still for a long moment as she processed this information. “Swapped.” She said flatly, and Junkrat nodded.

“Mm. Paid me an’ everythin’.”

She arched her brow higher. “He _paid_ you? How much?”

Junkrat looked supremely pleased with himself. “Five hundred bucks.”

Satya blinked in sheer disbelief. “Five _hundred?_ Just so he didn’t have to spend the afternoon in my company? He’s a fool.”

Junkrat shrugged, bouncing on the balls of his feet, shock absorbers creaking lightly. “Dunno, but I do know I came out pretty good in the deal.”

“Five hundred dollars? I’ll say you did.” She said dryly. Despite her best efforts, hurt and indignation prickled up inside her, and she decided to see if she couldn’t make him squirm. “I didn’t realise my company was so distasteful you practically have to be bribed in order to spend time with me.” Satya gave a practised sigh, enjoying the look of horror on his face. “You should have told me; I dare say your reading lessons have been quite the ordeal for you. If you’d said so we could have cancelled them and not said anything more about it.”

Satya turned away, and Junkrat spluttered a bit behind her. “No, wait – ‘Metra-”

“After all, I am a suit.” She continued ruthlessly. “It’s a pity; I quite enjoyed your company. Still, it’s better to have everything out in the open, yes? Don’t worry – you won’t have to speak to me again.”

“ _Symmetra_ -”

Strong fingers closed around her upper arm and pulled her around; Satya couldn’t stifle her gasp as Junkrat let go of her, but remained close. Despite the fact that there was nothing at her back, she felt like she was pinned in by his proximity, and the fact that he’d drawn himself up to his full height and he wore a serious expression only doubled the feeling.

“Junkrat.” She said rather faintly; clearly, her teasing had gone awry.

“Listen. I only took Lúcio’s money ‘cause he offered it, roight?” The expression in his eyes was heated and intense, and then his grin turned crooked. “Y’like me company, ay? Well, I like yer company too.”

To her intense shock, Junkrat lifted his hand then, taking hold of a strand of hair that had come loose from behind her ear when he’d pulled her around, and tucked it back into place. His warm fingers brushed over her cheek and her lips parted on a gasp as her body reacted without her express permission. Satya was too busy watching his face to monitor what she was doing but as she watched him, she saw the heat in Junkrat’s molten eyes fade to a sort of fascinated interest as his fingers lingered by her face.

With a low inhale Satya realised that _he_ was gauging _her_ reaction, not the other way round. She was comfortable with teasing him and rendering him speechless, but she suddenly realised that _he_ had done just that to _her_ ; there was heat in her cheeks and her body was angled towards his and for the life of her she couldn’t think of what to say.

He’d rendered her flustered and off balance and speechless, and Satya didn’t know how to react to that.

She pushed herself backwards and spun, hurriedly striding towards – she didn’t know where she was going, but it was away from him – Junkrat followed, his pace sounding slow and measured, as if perfectly assured he’d catch up.

She did not know what to do next.

Ignore him? Ignore what had just happened? Try to find some pithy remark with which to needle him with? Attempt to render _him_ the flustered one? In all truth, all of her options appealed to her, and Satya hesitated at the edge of the roof, gazing over the Numbani cityscape as she worked on slowing her breathing and bringing her heartbeat back to an acceptable meter.

Slowly turning around, she met Junkrat’s gaze and fought to remain cool, calm and collected, and avoid looking away. His expression was satisfied and utterly insufferable, and Satya fought the urge to find some way to wipe that smirk off his face, for if she did, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to stop what she’d started.

“Enough foolishness.” Her voice was unsteady at the start, which she despised, but gained strength as she continued. “We have a job to do. If Lúcio isn’t prepared to stay then you will have to help me.”

Junkrat nodded and grinned, and she just knew he’d caught the unsteadiness of her voice. “Fair ‘nuff. Whatcha doin’?”

Grateful that he hadn’t mentioned anything untoward, Satya let herself focus on their objective. “Well, I was setting up cameras and turrets. Lúcio was supposed to be finding me new locations to put them, but if you’ve swapped, you can do it.” She turned on her heel and headed back over to the last turret she’d placed, and began to weave a new camera between her fingers. Junkrat trailed after her, watching. She was pleased to note that he’d left the bulk of his weapons behind, though his grenade-laden harness was still carefully holstered in place. She supposed it was better than nothing. “Do you see how I’m placing these, in spots where they are less likely to be noticed?”

Junkrat drew closer, brows furrowed. “Yeah.”

“Well, I want you to go ahead of me and find other little nooks and crannies for me to put my turrets in. Can you do that?”

Junkrat nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

He headed off, tracing his good hand along the edge of the roof as he did so, and Satya watched him go with something close to pleasure curling in her chest. If he was going to be as agreeable and cooperative as he was being now for the rest of the afternoon, she’d no longer be able to complain about Lúcio ‘swapping’. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Satya continued with her work, weaving a new turret whenever Junkrat called out and said he’d found a new spot.

He turned out to be rather adept at spotting places, choosing the kind of locations she herself would have chosen, and so the work went by quickly, until she’d turreted the entire roof, and pressed her finger to her ear to speak on the comms.

“Winston?” Satya had tuned into his private channel, and got a rapid response.

“Symmetra. How’s the roof looking?”

“All clear, for the moment. I’ve done as you asked and supplemented the museum security with cameras of our own, and I’ve taken the liberty of placing turrets around them, just in case.”

“That’s a wonderful idea.” Winston sounded pleased. “I’m nearly finished with the curator, but once I’m done, I’ll get you and Lúcio to come down here so you can put some more cameras up. I want full three-sixty degree view in all possible entryways to the exhibit.”

“I’m awaiting your call.” Satya said in agreement, and Winston chuckled slightly.

“If only everyone could be so prompt. I’ll see you shortly.”

Satya signed off, and as she lowered her hand, she heard Junkrat speak. “What now?” He loped closer, hands in his pockets. He grinned at her widely, and, satisfied with their work, Satya allowed herself to smile in return, thoroughly determined to act as though the events of just a little while earlier hadn’t happened.

“Now we wait. Winston will call me when he’s ready for me to place cameras in the next location.”

Junkrat followed her over towards the fire escape, where there was a shaded partition. Satya spread her fingers and wove a chair to sit on, and sat neatly, crossing her legs. Junkrat looked at her awkwardly for a moment, and then Satya stood quickly.

“I’m sorry. I ought to have offered you a seat.”

Junkrat giggled and shook his head. “‘S fine. Can sit on the ground.”

Satya shot a disapproving look at the ground, where leaves and grime resided, and wove a new chair anyway. She formed it with a flourish, liking the impressed expression on his face.

“Sit.” She invited, sitting back down on her own chair and recrossing her legs. Junkrat paused before he did so, and from the direction of his gaze, she got the distinct impression he’d been looking at her legs. The thought made she herself look down at her legs; to be fair to him, her outfit didn’t exactly hide that particular part of her anatomy. Satya flicked an imaginary speck of dust from her knee as she considered how his attention made her feel. She’d already sort of decided that she was flattered, but there was something more. Something of a desire to see just how far this interest of his went – as well as an inclination to get him back for his little stunt from earlier. Satya bit her lip for a moment, and then, purely in the interest of scientific curiosity (and a little revenge), she laid her hands at the top of her thigh. A benefit of where she’d chosen to sit was that the panels of the museum walls were all shiny and reflective. As they were sitting in the shade of a more decorative section adorning the roof, she discovered that she could see Junkrat very easily without needing to look in his direction… and clearly thinking he was safe, his gaze was fastened on her legs. Satya continued the movement, almost far too interested in his reactions for her own good, and she slipped her hands to the top of her stocking and readjusted it, moving it around her thigh in a slow circle. She completed the motion by releasing the stocking and sweeping her hands up her bare thigh to flick out her skirt neatly, then lightly folded them in her lap and turned to face Junkrat.  

He had jerked upright and now sat stiffly, staring straight ahead, fingers drumming absently on his thigh. Satya wondered if he was thinking about his notebook, because she definitely was. She snuck a sneak peek at him; _he thinks that I am gorgeous._ It still made her feel a bit strange deep in her belly, but she was still putting that down to flattery. Despite the direction of her thoughts, there was no earthly power that would persuade her to bring it up, despite her little scientific experiment, and so she chose a different subject.

“Are you liking Numbani… Jamison?” Satya had been weighing the pros and cons of addressing him by his real name ever since he’d told it to her, but they hadn’t really been in any circumstances private enough to use it, and she wouldn’t betray his confidence by using it before any prying ears. Junkrat started slightly as his name hit his ears, and turned towards her, a slightly stunned smile growing on his face.

“Yeah, ‘s all roight, I guess. Too many bots, but.” This was accompanied by a giggle that faded as his look turned more intense. He licked his lips and looked like he was debating the merits of something, and then bravely ploughed ahead. “D’ya like it… Satya?”

She had to supress a smile; he’d hesitated before pronouncing her name, just as she had. Satya wasn’t at all successful – from the look on his face, which grew pleased and a little content, he’d seen her lips curving up.

“I do. Numbani is a wonderful place.”

Junkrat’s expression turned a little disbelieving then. “Even with the bots?”

“Even with the omnics.” She confirmed. “They’re not all bad, you know. It’s unfair of you to place judgement on all of them for the actions of some.”

Junkrat’s eyebrow attempted to disappear into his hairline. “Roighto.”

Satya smiled slightly. “I can tell you’ll never agree, no matter what I say, so shall we agree to disagree?”

He grinned, tongue curling around a pointed tooth, and nodded. “Sounds good t’me.” A curious light entered Junkrat’s eyes then. “So, wait. How come y’like omnics? Thought y’said India had a pretty rough time of it.”

Satya pursed her lips. “We did. But the Vishkar corporation has always been open to innovation. We had nothing to do with omnics for a long time, but recently? We’ve branched into seeing how an all mechanical being can handle hard light. It would allow longer work hours and shorter construction periods. There are many omnics at the academy now. They learn just like human students.”

Junkrat screwed up his face doubtfully. “An’ if they fuck y’over?”

Satya shrugged lightly. “We will wear it if it happens, but I doubt it will.”

Junkrat’s expression told her he thought she was pretty stupid for believing that. Satya let herself focus on his face for a moment, considering him thoughtfully. Junkrat was an interesting specimen, all in all. He wasn’t _really_ good looking, but he was attractive enough, when his face was washed clean of dirt. His body was just as much as a conundrum; he looked gangly and skinny and much shorter than he truly was if viewed from a distance and combined with his horrific posture, but when closer to him, she had to admit he wasn’t… unappealing. Her gaze drifted down from his face, studying the surprisingly broad shoulders washed with a light smattering of freckles, and down past the harness loaded with grenades to the admittedly impressive musculature of his abdomen. Satya hadn’t really studied him in this close a detail before, and for a lanky madman, she had to admit it was impressive. Her gaze dipped a little lower, noting the surprisingly chiselled ‘v’ and trail of blond that led below his wonky belt and disappeared beneath the waistband of his shorts and jerked her gaze up just as his body twitched in laughter.

Junkrat grinned at her. “Enjoyin’ the view?”

 _Oh, Gods._ Satya closed her eyes briefly. What was she _doing_ , looking at him so blatantly? In any case, it was all his fault. She hadn’t started really noticing him physically until she’d figured out _he_ noticed _her_ physically. Feeling embarrassed and distinctly put out, Satya narrowed her eyes at him.

“As a matter of fact, I was simply wondering why you’ve brought so many grenades with you. It’s not as if you need them. We’re only scouting.” Her voice was even, she was pleased to note, and her expression impassive, and now if only her cheeks would cease burning, she could be happy.

Junkrat’s grin got wider, tongue curling around his golden tooth, and he hunched over in delight, fingers splaying wide as he giggled. “Don’t keep any grenades below me belt.” He said, and the sheer satisfaction in his tone could have melted her. Nevertheless, Satya kept up her severe façade as he continued, thankfully sparing her further embarrassment. “An’ I don’t have that many. Left me tyre an’ me frag launcher behind, see?”

As a matter of fact, she could see. “I’m glad of that. I doubt the security guards would take kindly to you lugging an explosive tyre around the museum.”

Junkrat’s grin faded slightly and he looked around carefully, clearly noting all possible entrances and making sure they were empty. “Well, that’s why, innit? Don’t wanna draw their attention. Y’never know who’s been watchin’ the news.” He tapped his harness and stroked his fingers over a grenade hitched there. “But there ain’t no way I’m goin’ totally unprotected in here.” His voice had turned suspicious. “Hog ain’t with me, an’ I ain’t goin’ nowhere without a way t’get outta here.”

Satya tilted her head. “Is it unnerving, when you and Roadhog are separated? You make it sound like neither of you like it.”

Junkrat cackled with laughter then. “Nah, well, I don’t like it much ‘cause I might get offed or captured or tortured for info, an’ Hog don’t like it ‘cause if I snuff it, he don’t get paid.”

Satya arched a brow to accompany a delicate grimace. “Torture?”

Junkrat leaned back and placed both hands behind his head, grinning at her. Satya refused to look down, despite the fact that his torso was highlighted by the motion.

“Yeah, torture.” His voice was contemplative now. “Found somethin’ a whole bunch of other blokes’d like t’get their grubby mits on, an’ so I now I gotta have Hog or they’ll get me, see?”

“What did you find?”

Junkrat shrugged and grinned slowly. “That’s confidential. But Hog an’ me’ve gone fifty-fifty, so it’s in his best interests to keep me ol’ ticker tickin’.”

“I see.” Satya would have continued, but Winston’s voice appeared in her ear.

“Symmetra, are you there?”

Satya made a sign to Junkrat to be silent and then pressed her fingers to her ear. “Winston. Are you ready now?”

“Yes, I’ve finished with the curator. You know where the gauntlet exhibit is, don’t you?”

“I do. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Excellent. I hope Lúcio hasn’t been too antagonistic?”

Satya shot Junkrat a sideways glance. “He’s barely spoken a word to me, despite my best efforts.”

“Winston sighed. “He’s _supposed_ to be learning to work well with anyone. I’m going to have to speak to him. I’m glad that you can put things aside when there’s work to do, at least.”

“Of course.” Satya replied at once. “Personal feelings must be put aside when working, or else we’d never get anything done.”

Winston chuckled slightly. “That’s one way of looking at it. I’ll see you soon.”

Satya signed off, and turned to Junkrat. “Time to go.” She stood smoothly as he jumped up, and then she unhooked her photon projector from her hip and took the time to disassemble the chairs, watching each piece fade into static blue and then vanish. Junkrat looked impressed.

“That thing gets handier every time.” He said admiringly, and Satya smiled.

“I’m glad you appreciate it. Not everyone likes hard light.”

Junkrat offered her a brief smile. “Dumb of ‘em, yeah?”

Satya took a moment to smile back. “Yes, indeed.”

Their conversation was amiable as they headed down to the carpark and took the lift back to the lobby. Satya noticed that Junkrat was tense inside the elevator, and more so when they stopped and took on more passengers. She sidled closer, standing a little in front of him as something of a shield, and though it put her closer to complete strangers, which she disliked, there was something pleasant in the way she saw Junkrat’s shoulders relax slightly in the mirrored walls.

“Why’d y’do that?” He asked once the museum visitors had disembarked on the naturalist floor. Satya shrugged slightly and turned to look up at him.

“You seemed uncomfortable. Are you perhaps claustrophobic?”

Junkrat’s gaze grew rather intense. “No. Well, don’t like lil spaces much, but it ain’t that. No lifts in Junkertown, an’ I don’t like ‘em much. Yer stuck in ‘em, an’ there’s only one way out.” His troubled gaze fastened on the door again.

“There are ways to free a stuck elevator.” Satya said softly. “If you were trapped it wouldn’t be for long.”

Junkrat’s snickered lightly. “An’ the longer yer here the longer others have t’stitch y’up good an’ proper.”

The elevator dinged softly then and the doors slid open, and so Satya led the way out. Junkrat seemed very glad to be out of there, rolling his shoulders once they were out in the open.

“This way.” Satya led the way to the Doomfist exhibit, passing McCree and Mercy as they did so. McCree’s eyes widened and then he laughed around his unlit cigarillo as he beheld Junkrat trailing along behind her, and Mercy smiled rather knowingly.

“Rat! Thought y’were ‘sposed to be with Mei?” The cowboy drawled, striding up to them.

“Lúcio paid me t’swap.” Junkrat answered cheerfully, and jabbed his thumb in Satya’s direction. She frowned at him. “Reckons he can’t hack ‘Metra fer that long.”

 _…Hack?_ Satya resolved to ask him what that meant later as Mercy looked between them.

“How much did he pay you?”

“Five hundred bucks.” Junkrat sounded gleeful, and Satya scoffed.

“Isn’t it ridiculous? Such childish behaviour.”

Mercy nodded. “It certainly is. Does Winston know?”

Satya shook her head. “Not yet, but he’s about to. He’s asked me to meet him now.”

Beside her, Junkrat looked thoroughly alarmed. “What! Y’didn’t say that!”

McCree chuckled as Satya folded her arms and cocked her hip to the side. “Didn’t I? My mistake.”

Junkrat grimaced. “I don’t wanna be blamed fer this. Y’gonna tell him it’s all Lúcio’s fault, roight?”

“Don’t worry about a thing. Winston will know precisely who is to blame.”

Junkrat looked pleased as he bounced slightly. “Good, good.”

“We’d better get going.” Mercy said. “Lots to do! We’ll see you two later.”

“Goodbye.”

The round of goodbyes complete, Satya set off once more, Junkrat trailing behind as she headed down the hallway. Annoyed with his pace, Satya rounded on him suddenly enough that she saw the way his head jerked up and a slightly guilty look crossed his features.

Satya responded by narrowing her eyes. “You said _I_ was enjoying the view, but I’d be very much surprised if you _weren’t_. Walk beside me, please.”

Junkrat said nothing, but he did fall into step beside her, and she noted a tinge of pink to the tips of his ears. His odd gait meant that she needed to slow her stride slightly to match him, but she managed. Inexplicably, she was reminded of Austria, of how she’d tugged him up against her in the doorway as Talon agents passed them. He’d been very warm, and the feeling of his form against hers had not been wholly unpleasant. Satya frowned and searched for something else to think of.

“Oh, that reminds me. What does ‘hack’ mean?”

Junkrat gave her an odd glance. “What?”

“Hack. I know what it means, but not in that context.” Junkrat still looked lost, so Satya wiggled her fingers at him. “You said Lúcio can’t ‘hack’ me? I’ve never heard the word used like that.”

“Oh!” Junkrat sniggered, body curling in on its self as he laughed. “Means he can’t stand ya, Sat.”

“Oh.” Satya was about to be displeased, but then found herself distracted. “Sat? Sat!? Did you just call me _Sat?”_

Junkrat nodded. “Lemme guess – y’don’t like it.” His grin was amused and his body language almost teasing, and so affronted, Satya let herself be caught by it.

“I most certainly do not. My name is _Satya_.”

Junkrat held up placating hands, grin firmly in place. “I know, but Satya takes too long t’say.”

Satya stared at him, brow furrowed. “I will never understand you.” She said at last. “Takes too long? It’s just as short as ‘Metra’, and you call me that very easily.”

Junkrat nodded, smile widening. “Yeah, an’ Sat has less syllables than ‘Metra, so it’s shorter, innit?”

“I suppose.” Satya said reluctantly. “But I hope you don’t intend to make a habit of calling me that.”

“Depends.” Junkrat was far too pleased with himself, and Satya narrowed her eyes playfully.

“Jamison Fawkes, you are about to be in significant trouble.”

“Ooh.” He muttered, clapping a hand to his heart. “Real name. Shouldna told y’that. Y’just gonna use it against me.” He was grinning crookedly as he said it, and Satya couldn’t help a slight chuckle of her own.

She turned and stepped a fraction closer, thoroughly enjoying the way Junkrat’s eyes widened. “I most certainly am.” Her voice had come out much lower than expected, and Satya frowned inwardly as she swung back around and kept walking. There was silence behind her for a moment, indicating that Junkrat was just standing there, and then the clank of his peg leg on the polished floor led him to catch up with her.

They reached the area where Winston was standing not long after that; he was on his tablet, scrolling down with a frown on his face, and Satya moved forwards.

“Winston?”

The gorilla looked up and grinned. “Symmetra. Glad to see you. We’ve got lots to do – where’s Lúcio?”

At that moment, Junkrat appeared, stuffing his face with several chocolate bars. “Found a vendin’ machine!” He said loudly, through a mouthful of sugar. Satya winced at the look on Winston’s face.

“Junkrat.” He said rather flatly, and the Junker in question turned around.

“Winston! G’day.”

“Where’s Mei?” Winston sounded utterly done.

Junkrat shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Symmetra.”

Satya tried to hide her smile. “Yes?”

“Where’s Lúcio?”

“With Mei, I presume.”

Winston sighed and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “May I ask why?”

“You will have to ask Junkrat for that.”

Winston opened one eye, and Junkrat giggled.

“He paid me five hundred bucks t’take one fer the team an’ go with ‘Metra.”

Satya folded her arms. _“‘Take one for the team’?”_

He sniggered and stuffed the rest of his chocolate bar into his mouth. “‘S what he said.”

Winston broke in then. “Enough of that now. I’ll speak to Lúcio when I find him, but for now, Symmetra, can you start putting those cameras up? Junkrat…” He looked a trifle agitated. “Try not to be a pain.”

Junkrat giggled almost hysterically. “Who, me?”

Winston’s only reply was an exasperated glance before he left the hall, no doubt to find the unfortunate Lúcio.

Satya diligently set about spinning cameras and turrets to be placed in the corridor, Junkrat trailing behind and occasionally making conversation, and once she was done, she opened the door and moved into the Doomfist exhibit. Morrison and Hana came to meet them as they did so, for the exhibit wasn’t yet open to the public, and they had to unlock the door to allow them in.

“Symmetra.” Morrison nodded at her in greeting. “Winston said you’d be placing cameras?”

“That’s right. I’ve done the corridor I just came from, so now I need to do the others. Are there many entry points?”

Morrison turned to point. “There’s the three main corridors there, and then over here there’s an employee entrance.”

Satya nodded. “I’ll do the public corridors first.”

It was easy to do her work unobstructed, for Junkrat and Hana stuck together, attempting to evade Morrison – he had been in the exhibit already when Winston had been reading out the pairs, so although he didn’t know about Junkrat and Lúcio swapping (rather a good thing, really, because if anyone was going to chew them out for it, it’d be Morrison) he still found a plethora of things wrong with both their conduct.

When at last she was finished, she and Junkrat left Hana alone to duke it out with Morrison (Hana was attempting to convince him he ought to have a rabbit on his jacket), and headed back to the roof so she could complete the circuit and allow Winston to start receiving footage.

As she concerned herself with her cameras, however, Satya noticed that Junkrat was looking at her oddly, a few times opening his mouth to speak and then apparently thinking the better of it. It wasn’t until she had her back to him, examining one of her turrets that whatever was on his mind became apparent.

It was almost too subtle to notice; the slight brush of sensation at her hip. Satya turned and found Junkrat standing a few steps away, and so she put the feeling down to an overactive imagination, and kept working on her turret. When she turned properly and went to tell Junkrat that they’d finished, she found him turning something over and over in his hands. As he flipped it around, she recognised it; it was one of the patches he used to mend his shorts. A very familiar patch. Her hand jumped to the pouch on the belt at her hip before she could stop herself, and Junkrat looked up at the movement, and waved the patch at her.

“Saw y’with this on the way over, an’ again, before. Y’put it in yer pouch when we was in the barracks.” He said quietly. “Why’ve y’got it?”

Satya panicked as her fingers desperately wiggled in her empty pouch, as if she could summon the patch back there through sheer force of will. When it became apparent that it was staying right where it was, in Junkrat’s hands, she was forced to come up with something to say.

“I – did you just _pickpocket_ me?”

Her words distracted him enough that his lips hitched into a crooked grin. “Yeah.”

Satya took a step back, scrambling to get herself in order and unable to come up with a retort to such a shameless admission. “Well, I – I…. found it.” She took a deep breath and continued. “In the workshop. You must have dropped it.” There – that was a good enough excuse. After all, she was sure there was no way he’d have realised it was missing.

Junkrat nodded, gaze roving over her face. “Yeah? That’s lucky – I noticed it was gone last week.”

Satya froze and tried to arrange a natural expression on her face. Panic trembled in her fingertips and skittered up her back, and she stared at Junkrat, trying to uncover what he was thinking so she could base her answer around him. He was watching her, posture casual and expression relaxed, though his metal fingers were tapping softly against his thigh. She thought there might have been a hint of something intent behind his eyes, but if there was, he was hiding it well. “Oh.” Her voice was faint, and she was completely unable to come up with anything better to say.

Something of a grin curled the corner of his lips. “Weren’t y’gonna give it back?”

“Oh, no, I was.” Satya stammered, then tucked her hair behind her ear and attempted to compose herself. How was he so _completely_ in control of this conversation? She was a stuttering mess, and by the Gods she needed to sort herself out quickly. “I – I – you weren’t there when I found it, so I put it away until I saw you again.” There. That was perfectly reasonable.

“Y’put it away.”

“Yes.”

“Fer safekeeping.”

“Yes.”

“In yer pocket?”

Oh, she’d dug herself right into that hole. She fought the urge to grimace. “Yes.” Satya kept her expression straight-faced, brooking no disagreement. She had to fight embarrassment, nerves, and disappointment – the latter emotion was buzzing in the tips of her fingers. She’d gotten very used to playing with the patch when stressed or tired or thinking – the texture was interesting and the repetitive motion of her thumb rubbing the surface was soothing. It helped her concentrate, and now Junkrat was clearly going to take it back.

“Saw y’playin’ with it.”

Satya took another deep, measured breath as she wondered just where Junkrat was going with this. He’d straightened up, looking contemplative, though his expression was a little guarded.

“Y’do that a lot, actually. Seen y’do it. Playin’ with things.” Junkrat offered her a small grin. “Gotta keep yer hands busy, ay?”

Satya nodded very cautiously, becoming aware of the fact that even as he spoke, her fingers were twisting together anxiously, and she fought to still them. “I suppose so, yes.” A separate part of her registered how interesting it was that he’d noticed that about her.

His lips hitched back into that half smile. “I know what that’s like. Here.” Junkrat offered the patch to her, and Satya eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then almost hesitantly reached out and took the patch from his hand. Her metal fingers grazed over the flesh of his good hand, and the receptors for her synthetic nerves noted that the surface she’d just touched was warm.

“Thank you.” Satya replied cautiously, half expecting he was going to insinuate something or do _something_ , but he didn’t. She rubbed her fingers over the fabric for a long moment, feeling the raised stitches under her thumb, and then slipped it back into her belt. Satya took a deep breath and simply watched him for a long moment – Junkrat’s face was sincere, that little smile still in place. She gave him a smile of her own, brief and uncertain but still genuine, and ducked her head to gesture at the nearby camera. “I’m finished here. We ought to go down to Winston.”

“Roighto.” Junkrat rubbed his hands together. “Could go fer some tucker, too.”

“That too.” Satya allowed. “Come along then, Jamison.”

His grin widened dramatically, revealing his golden teeth, and he fell into step beside her.

“So, Satya. How’d these cameras work?”

Now _this_ was safe territory. “Oh, it’s quite simple. They operate on… well, I call it a closed circuit, which means they can’t be hacked into by ordinary means. They’re very secure, which bodes well for us. When I find Winston again, I will craft him a tablet and it is only on that tablet that the security footage can be viewed. It’s likely an over precaution, but it will be handy in the event that museum security is compromised.”

Junkrat was grinning at her. “Y’really like gettin’ into the nitty gritty of this, dontcha?”

Satya tilted her head. “…Yes.” She realised what he was getting at then, and half smiled. “I believe it is important to enjoy what you do in life, don’t you?”

Junkrat giggled, the sound delighted, as he lifted a hand to one of the grenades hitched to his chest. “I’ll say.” He tilted his head like she had, and looked enthusiastic. “What else d’ya like?”

Satya raised a brow, and he elaborated with a wave of his metal hand. “C’mon. Y’whole life can’t revolve ‘round yer little do-dads. What else d’ya like t’do?”

Satya regarded him for a long moment. “Are you asking me about my hobbies?”

Junkrat nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of his feet and accidentally tripping into a parked car as they crossed the carpark. “Shit. But yeah. Y’real private. Don’t know much aboutcha at all.”

“There is a reason for that.” Satya kept her voice even.

“Vishkar.” Junkrat sounded unimpressed. “Buncha drongos. Y’ain’t gonna tell me y’can’t even say what kinda things y’like!?” He thumped his chest with his fist. “Here, I’ll go first.” Junkrat’s grin widened. “I like bombs.” He lowered his voice dramatically. “Explosives. _Incendiary devices_.”

“Wow.” Satya replied dryly. “I would never have guessed.”

Junkrat dissolved into laughter, body hunching over and his eyes squeezed shut until he had to sweep moisture away from his lashes with his fingers. “Yer just as bad as Hoggie!” He wheezed, and Satya was having difficulty controlling her smile.

“Okay, Okay, yer turn.” He said, finally getting his laughter under control, and Satya bit her lip and went with something safe.

“I like to read.”

Junkrat nodded. “I like t’cook.”

That startled her right out of her reverie. “What? _You?”_

Junkrat looked offended, but with a grin lurking at the edges. “I am _insulted_.”

Her laugh was more a huff of air than noise, but it made his grin widen.

“I am sorry.” Satya said, composing herself neatly. “It’s just that I wouldn’t have expected it. You look like that sort of man that could burn water.”

Junkrat grinned. “First impressions an’ all that, yeah?” His grin widened. “I like cookin’, ‘cause there ain’t any supermarkets or café’s in the Outback. Y’cook, or ya starve.” His voice turned contemplative. “If y’can find anythin’ t’cook, that is.” He thumped his chest again. “But I’m a dab hand with the barbecue tongs.”

“You will have to show us all some time.” Satya reached the elevator and pressed the button. “I believe McCree is also good at barbecuing.”

Junkrat snickered. “Yeah, he reckons so.”

What that meant, she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Yer turn.” He invited again, and Satya bit her lip.

“Well, I…” She stopped, wondering if she ought to reveal such an intimate part of herself. It wasn’t something she spoke about much, even to those she considered herself to be fairly close to in India. “I love to dance.” She said softly, and avoided looking at him.

“Dance, huh?” Junkrat did a ridiculous and overtly sexual shimmy of his hips, and it was enough to make her laugh.

“Gods, no. Not quite like that.” Satya pressed her fingers to her mouth to conceal her smile. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of _bharatanatyam_?”

Junkrat looked completely lost. “Bara-what?”

She pressed her fingers harder to her lips. “ _Bharatanatyam_. It’s a classical dance. Very traditional and very old. I have learned it since I was very small.”

“Huh. Didn’t think ya’d have time fer dancin’ with all yer-” Junkrat made a motion that looked like something she might perform to craft something while also extremely drunk. It made her smile.

“Well, Vishkar encourages excellence, and part of that is being sound of both mind and body. When I went to the academy, I and my classmates were all encouraged to undertake some form of physical activity, and my mother had always taken me to see the temple dances. I had already learned some simple forms, so it seemed very natural to continue.”

Junkrat looked like he was thinking hard as the elevator _dinged_ open and they stepped in. “Don’t think I’ve seen Indian dancin’.” He admitted. “Is it different?”

“Quite different.” Satya brushed her hair behind her ear and hit the button for the ground floor as she watched Junkrat out of the corner of her eye. He was frowning at the door, one hand gripping the railing tightly. He must have noticed her looking, because he straightened up slightly.

“Don’t like lifts. Toldja that before, didn’t I? Ain’t too smart lettin’ yerself get stuck in a joint with only one exit. Any bastard could set up camp at the door an’ yer a sittin’ duck.” His gaze was fixed suspiciously on the door, and abruptly Satya realised what the problem was; he wasn’t claustrophobic, he was just worried about being ambushed.

She stared. “ _Honestly_.”

Junkrat raised a brow. “Huh?”

Satya rolled her eyes. “I thought you must be claustrophobic or something. Not scared of being murdered in between the floors.”

Junkrat grinned, his tone both amused and indignant. “‘S a valid concern. Never know who’s on the other side of a door. Could be ready t’blow ya t’smithereens.”

She had to stifle a sigh. “Somehow, I doubt it. Not here, anyway.”

“Aw, I dunno ‘bout that. Ain’t it possible Talon’s gonna launch some sort of sneak attack?”

Satya considered it for a moment. “Well, I suppose it could happen, yes. Still, I don’t think you have to worry about it quite as much as you are at the moment.”

Junkrat tilted his head and laughed, his body language clearly saying ‘agree to disagree’.

They reached the bottom floor and the doors slid open with a _ding_ , and Satya led the way outside.

“Oh shit.” Junkrat sounded delighted. “There’s Lúcio.”

Satya swivelled on her heel and narrowed her eyes, target in sight. Lúcio and Mei were standing before a dinosaur exhibit, apparently examining the bones. Junkrat trailed after her, giggling at something as she stalked towards the oblivious DJ. Positioning herself directly behind him, Satya folded her arms and cleared her throat.

Lúcio swung around at the sound, as did Mei, and his smile slid like butter to the floor.

“Oh. Symmetra. Uhhh… hey.” He looked about, like he was trying to find an avenue of escape. Beside him, Mei smiled.

“Hi, Symmetra. Can you believe these two? Swapping like that?”

“Hello, Mei. And no, I can’t believe it. Such childish behaviour _I_ wouldn’t have imagined.”

Lúcio scowled. “Chill. Better than bitching at each other for the whole afternoon, right?”

Satya had to agree. “I suppose. I could even say I would have expected such infantile, irresponsible, unprofessional, immature conduct of you. But isn’t me you should be worried about. It’s Winston.”

Lúcio’s eyes popped wide and he forgot about responding to her insults, which he’d clearly been about to do. “ _You told him?_ Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t tell him.” Satya snapped. “He wanted me to come and set up some more cameras where he was. What was I supposed to do? Ignore him?”

Lúcio dragged his hands down his face. “ _Argggh_.” He turned to Junkrat. “What did he say?”

Junkrat shrugged. “Dunno. Somethin’ ‘bout me stayin’ outta trouble an’ goin’ t’find ya.”

“That’s it.” Lúcio said decisively. “I’m runnin’ away. Anyone know how to lose a tail?”

Junkrat nodded, as if this were very wise. “Steal a car, dump it, an’ set it on fire as a distraction.” He said this as if it were perfectly obvious, and Satya joined Mei and Lúcio in looking at him dubiously. He noticed their expressions and tried to look innocent. “I say somethin’?”

“You say far too much.” Satya replied tartly. “Come along. I want to go back to the gauntlet and check the feeds are working correctly.”

Junkrat frowned. “Y’already checked ‘em.”

Satya barely refrained from making an exasperated noise. “Well, I need to check them again.”

Junkrat raised a brow and turned to Lúcio. “I want another hundred bucks.” He said, and Satya rolled her eyes.

“Stop complaining and follow me.” She turned to Mei then. “Bye, Mei.”

“Bye, Symmetra. Have fun.” Mei was looking at Junkrat with a knowing grin, and Satya just barely refrained from rolling her eyes. She strode off down the hall, Junkrat trailing behind, until she remembered the last time he’d followed her down the corridor, and decided it would be much wiser to make him keep pace with her.

Checking the circuit was a task that went smoothly and quickly, and before long, Satya had to drag Junkrat away from Hana, speak briefly to Morrison, and then she found her duties were done for the day. She decided to head back to the barracks; she wanted to hide the patch currently burning at her side. If she hid it, stuffed to the deepest corner of her bag and concealed it from both touch and view, she thought she might feel a little better about Junkrat having discovered it. A distant thought in the back of her mind mused that since she’d found his notebook and now he’d found her patch ( _his_ patch, she reminded herself furiously), they were even. What exactly this game they were playing was, she wasn’t sure, but she did know that somehow, they were moving on to the next round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter and realised that Satya had basically a Bad and Flustered time like pretty much the whole way through, poor girl
> 
> Jamie just found out that he can make her blush if he plays his cards right. stay tuned for more experimentation~ 
> 
> also, if Satya's undergoing stages of acceptance, we are officially past denial


	39. The Sable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat and the others head to see Symmetra's hotel, and developments occur.

Junkrat had been delighted to discover that they were being permitted some free time; those who wished to were allowed out of the museum to explore Numbani for the day. There were two days before the Doomfist gauntlet opened to the public, and therefore, two days to enjoy themselves a bit, and seeing as they'd already spent time tightening security and checking perimeters, Junkrat was of the opinion they deserved a small break.

76 was not of that opinion, but most of the others? Definitely.

Junkrat had his day planned out with Roadhog – first they’d (well, just he, actually) bugged Winston until he got onto the police database to see how well known they were in Numbani. Hana had jumped on social media and did some digging, and discovered that they were in fact relatively unknown here, which meant they were free to do some exploring without fear of sudden arrest. Of course, there was always the risk of being spotted by someone who was familiar with international criminals, but the odds were that they’d be able to spend their day without being set upon by coppers.

They were gonna explore to get their bearings first, and then Junkrat wanted to see how rich Numbani citizens were. Hoggie had said that was a bad idea, citing that everyone else would probably disapprove, and when Junkrat had folded his arms and insisted, Hoggie had threatened to tell Satya, which was a dirty fuckin’ trick if he’d ever heard one. He was still fuming, but had promised to pull his head in, because he really didn’t want Satya to frown at him in that way she was so good at. So, he supposed they would just explore. Maybe look for a place that had boba tea. Maybe do a bit of real shopping. Otherwise, they were just… staying out of trouble.

Yeah, Junkrat was disappointed about it too.

“Why the long face?”

Junkrat looked up as McCree sank into the armchair opposite and raised a brow at him.

“You’re lookin’ mighty glum.” He continued, and Junkrat shrugged.

“Hoggie says I ain’t allowed t’steal anythin’ when we go out later.”

Tracer, who was poking through the fridge at the other end of the common area, blipped over. “An’ quite right, too!” She said indignantly. “We’ve got to keep a low profile.”

“A lil pickpocketin’ never hurt nobody.” Junkrat protested.

Tracer raised a brow. “What about the person whose wallet you stole?”

Junkrat shrugged. “Actually, I meant it don’t hurt _me_.”

Tracer wrinkled her nose. “Jesse, ‘elp me.” She said, pushing McCree’s shoulder.

McCree snickered. “Love to, but that’d require makin’ me a hypocrite, Lena. Ain’t like I’ve never lifted any wallets in my lifetime.”

Tracer let out a noisily exasperated breath, and rolled her eyes. “Fine! But if anyone ends up on the news…” She let her voice trail off menacingly.

Junkrat grinned at her. “No worries.” He said, and then Hana came darting into the room, with Lúcio, Ana, Satya, Mei and Reinhardt in tow.  

“Hey guys!” She chirped, coming over to lean on McCree’s armchair. “We’re going to check out Symmetra’s hotel! Want to come?”

Junkrat’s gaze slid to Satya. She looked a little bit pleased, he thought, so he looked about for Roadhog, who nodded.

“Yeah, roighto. Might be interestin’.” He said, peeling himself up off his chair.

McCree looked contemplative. “What, yer just gonna drive there, have a look-see, and leave again? Sounds like a waste of time t’me.”

“It’s a very well appointed hotel.” Satya said smoothly, though Junkrat thought he detected a hint of offense in her expression. “There’s an arcade, a restaurant, spa and massage facilities…”

“And we can use em’? Wouldn’t you have to be a guest?”

“For the pool and spa, yes, but the arcade runs beneath the hotel and is open to the public. The restaurant too is free for anyone to visit.”

Junkrat was slightly confused at this talk of arcades. Why would a real fancy joint like he knew her hotel would be have a stack of games and claw machines under it?

“And the arcade is nice, isn’t it?” Ana said, evidently firmly on Satya’s side.

“Yes, it’s designer, primarily.”

That caught his interest. Desi _g_ ner… that meant it was a shopping arcade, full of _very_ expensive things. Junkrat did in fact want to see that, and maybe see what he could appropriate before any of the others, including Hog, spotted him.

“So we could check out Symmetra’s fancy hotel, and go shopping at Symmetra’s fancy arcade, and have lunch at Symmetra’s fancy restaurant!” Hana clapped excitedly. “Who’s in?”

In the end, it was Hana, Lúcio, Satya, Ana, Reinhardt, Junkrat, Roadhog, Hanzo, Mei and McCree who ended up in Numbani traffic, en route to Satya’s hotel. It was, they’d been informed, called the Sable, and was one of the largest projects she’d had when she was younger. It had taken her months to design and build, though she said she’d embarked on the construction of the hotel with a group of other architechs assigned to the project. They’d been informed by Satya that no one was dressed nicely enough to have lunch at the restaurant, and while most had brought along decent clothing to change into, some of them didn’t have anything good enough – and Junkrat was part of that group. The problem had been solved when Satya tapped her chin and reminded them of the arcade – and so now they were going to shop, get dressed in some fancy duds, and have lunch. It would make a decent enough day.

“Ah, there it is.” There was no mistaking the pride in her voice as Satya motioned out the window of their maxi taxi (Tracer had already promised to stay with Winston and help out, and she had the keys to their hired bus). Junkrat turned to look and found his gaze arrested by a large white skyscraper coming up on their left.

“What – that one?” Asked Hana, awe in her tone.

Satya nodded. “That one.”

“It’s enormous.” Ana said, tilting her head back to better take in the view. Reinhardt then chimed in.

“Incredible! You really designed all this? Amazing!”

There was a smile in Satya’s voice at their praise. “Thank you.”

The taxi dropped them at the curb and they all stood there while it pulled away to stare at the sheer size of the hotel. It was by no means small – it held its own against the other skyscrapers that split the sky like jagged fingers reaching for the sun. The hotel had a sweeping drive, and Junkrat could see uniformed valets primed and ready to take expensive cars from their owners. He briefly indulged in a daydream of dressing up as a valet and when in said expensive car, he’d just drive past the garage and keep right on going.

“This is so cool!” Hana enthused.

“It is amazing.” Mei agreed, and Hanzo nodded, but seemed puzzled.

“It is a lovely building, but the choice of name confuses me somewhat. Why name it the Sable?”

Junkrat saw Satya give a wry smile, but McCree interrupted.

“Why? What’s wrong with ‘the Sable’?”

Hanzo shrugged slightly. “A sable is an animal. They’re Japanese, which is why it strikes me as strange to see a hotel in Africa named after them.”

“Sables might be Japanese-” Satya interjected smoothly. “-but sable antelopes are found in Africa. It’s part of the theme the hotel was designed around.” She paused again as her expression turned a little wry, and Junkrat found himself focusing on the little birthmark by her mouth. “It might be a little cliché, but it’s what was requested by our clients.”

She looked directly at him then, which was a shock, and Junkrat forgot to do anything other than blatantly stare. Satya’s expression was interesting; the wryness increased, and there was something like affection there, though he was sure he was imagining things.

“Now, I believe there is some shopping to be done.” Her look towards him and Roadie was more significant now, and Hana took over with a laugh as the group began drifting towards the hotel. There were two entrances; one where the valets were lurking, the one that would take them into a sumptuous lobby, and one that was a little further down the curved drive, and led to the arcade. This was where he found himself being shepherded, and was soon under the cool glow of crystal chandeliers and under the eye of the snootiest, most well-dressed looking shop attendants he’d ever seen. This place was seriously high class, and he was seriously _not_.

Junkrat was massively doubting whether he could wear anything from here, but Hana came over and attached herself to him like glue.

“Ready to shop?” She beamed, and he nodded a touch reluctantly.

“I guess.” Levity touched him and he grinned cheekily. “Reckon these places go fer five fingered discounts?”

Hana smacked him.

Junkrat was still giggling when he was led into the first shop – it was quiet in there, with walls and floors of matching marble and racks of expensive looking clothes. He’d been made to wash before they left but it was still a little unnerving touching the fabrics – he felt sure he’d leave a stain just from existing nearby. He’d never been in a place that so blatantly screamed that he didn’t belong. Junkrat found himself watching the others through the racks – Hanzo and Satya looked the most at ease, picking through the clothes seemingly relaxed and comfortable. Ana and Reinhardt were commenting and laughing about the styles, and McCree was looking perplexed over a rack of leather coats.

Junkrat was also perplexed.

Roadhog, Hana and Lúcio had joined forces to find him something to wear, and the things they were contemplating seemed… not good.

“Hana.” He whispered, feeling like he had to be quiet in this place or the shop lady would probably open up her mouth too wide to reveal her fangs and eat him. Or something. “There’s no prices on these clothes.”

“Course not!” She beamed. “Really rich people never worry about prices. That’s how you know they’re rich.”

Junkrat scratched his head for a moment. “That seems… dumb.”

“Yeah, probably. Ooh, this shirt would look nice on you!” Hana held up the shirt in question. Roadhog looked at the shirt and shook his head, and proceeded to get into an argument with Hana over the clothes.

Junkrat took advantage of this and snuck off to examine the racks of clothes by himself. There was an awful lot of stuff that he’d never seen before, or not taken notice of, and he was busy trying to figure out the use of a top that was obviously for a woman but had large scoops of fabric missing out of the sleeves. In the Outback, that happened from wear and injury, but rich people paid good money to buy it like that new???

 _Should auction off me shorts,_ he thought dreamily. _Make a killin’._

He was, after a while, given a selection of clothing purchased by Hana and made to go to the toilets to put them on, even though he didn’t even know what they were. Locked securely in his stall, Junkrat sat on the dunny lid and started rifling through the bags. What he came up with was a dark pair of trousers that managed to be dressy and casual at the same time, and a grey button down shirt in the most absurdly soft cotton he’d felt in a while. Junkrat rubbed it on his face for a bit.

He took off his peg leg and shorts and struggled into the trousers, then rolled one leg up above the stump of his knee to put his leg back on, and then slipped into the shirt. Buttoning it up was a pain in the arse, but he managed it eventually, and rolled the sleeves up. Finally, he got the last item out of the bag – a shoebox. The shoes it contained were nothing like his boot – they were pretty snazzy, if he did say so himself. One shoe on and the other stuffed back into the bag along with his boot and shorts, Junkrat exited the stall to have a squiz at himself in the mirror.

A strange looking man stared back. If you ignored the worn orange paint on the prosthetic limbs and looked at the tall figure wrapped in fancy clothes, he had to admit he didn’t look half bad. Actually… he looked quite good. Junkrat grinned broadly at himself, gold teeth glinting, and decided that he should maybe do something with his hair.

Junkrat combed his fingers through it roughly, attempting to straighten out the straggly bits, and noted with pleasure the previously bald parts where patchy blond growth was showing.

Preening complete, Junkrat grabbed his bag and left the toilets, where Hana came running over.

“Rat! You look awesome! Super stylin’!” She giggled, and he did too.

“Looks dumb with me arm an’ leg, but she’ll do, I reckon.” He replied, and couldn’t contain the note of pride in his tone. He’d never in a million years wear this sort of thing voluntarily, but he couldn’t help but admit that he felt… good. Hana led him over to the rest of the group, where he noted McCree, Roadie, Ana and Reinhardt were all sporting at least one new item, and they all _complimented_ him.

Satya did too, and after seeing the warm little smile she’d given him after her gaze had wandered slowly down his body and back up again, nothing could dial down the wattage on his own grin.

Some of the others had bought clothes and like him, had changed in the toilets. Hana had found a mint green mini dress with pom poms on the sleeves and had instantly fallen in love, changing into it even though her clothes were already good enough for lunch. McCree had bought new clothes, as had Roadie, though the shop assistant had had a time trying to find stuff big enough for him. Luckily for them, the woman worked on commission and had been dedicated to her task, and the result was that Roadhog had come away with neat slacks and a lightweight navy blazer, and she with a large tip.

Of course, Hoggie looked strange in his snazzy get up plus his mask, but no one had yet had the guts to mention it.

Junkrat’s gaze had wandered to Satya more than once; she’d bought a few items and had changed into a neat white dress that (in his probably biased opinion) hugged every curve and only made her look sexier.

They spent more time exploring the shops in the arcade, and Roadie found a really fancy looking bookshop run by a snooty looking woman (it was possible he was overthinking things and they weren’t actually that snooty, but on the other hand, they probably were), and bought a boxed set of leather bound classics. Junkrat knew Roadhog would have stolen it, but these shops all seemed to have only one customer in there at any given time, and the attendant was looking right at them all the time. It made shoplifting bloody hard. Still, he came away with a stolen fountain pen tucked into the pocket of his new pants, and felt pleased with the haul – it was accented in gold, and Junkrat found the idea of scribbling plans for his explosives with a fancy rich person pen appealed to him enormously.

After finding a shop that sold expensive homewares and spying a bunch of glass bottles that would be _perfect_ for storing powder in, he was jostled back to reality by Roadhog, who nudged him, and Junkrat saw that the group was beginning to head towards the hotel.

Evidently, it was time for lunch.

Satya led them towards an elevator, to which Junkrat instantly bristled, but swallowed his dislike for the short ride up the lift to the next floor, which was the lobby of the hotel. While waiting for the next half of the group to arrive (with Reinhardt and Roadhog with them, they’d never fit everyone in the one lift), Junkrat took the opportunity to stare around with wide eyes.

The lobby was huge, gleaming marble with smooth pillars holding back the ceiling, which was dotted with hundreds of tiny glowing lights that made it seem like the stars were trapped in the roof. An immensely long desk sat nestled at the far end, where hotel employees were evidently busy checking people in, and dark, smooth timber furniture complemented the deep panelling in the walls.

“Sable.” Hanzo commented with a nod of his head. “I like it.”

Satya’s smile was like a sunbeam. “I’m glad to have your approval.” She said, and her voice was almost playful. Clearly, she was in a good mood from having the chance to show off her architectural work. They explored the lobby for a while, and Satya was really opening up, telling them bits and pieces about construction and design and occasionally using language that was way too technical for him to properly get, but seeing her so animated and happy was enough of a treat that he didn’t mind.

After a small while, a bloke in a red suit came over. He was wearing white gloves and a dumb hat on his head, and as he was clearly attempting to figure out who was the leader of their little group, Satya stepped forwards. Junkrat was standing towards the back of the group and so couldn’t quite hear what she was saying, but caught words like ‘Vishkar’ ‘Satya Vaswani’ ‘Architech’ and ‘I built this place, bitch’. Well, he might have been imagining that last part. It would have made everything vastly more entertaining had she actually said that, though.

Red Suit left and came back with a man in black clothing, whom Junkrat cleverly named Black Suit. Black Suit was smarmy and oozed his slimy pretentiousness all over Satya as he welcomed her back to the hotel, saying it was an honour to meet the architech who had created it. Satya introduced the rest of them as a whole, stating that they were colleagues and hoped to have lunch there, to show off the hotel to its best advantage.

Black Suit, who was evidently some sort of manager or something, immediately escorted them all to the restaurant, which was modern, gleaming, and very intimidating. They were given to a server, a smiling young woman with her hair wrapped in a colourful scarf, and led towards what appeared to be a balcony. The further they got into the restaurant, the more Junkrat felt discomforted; this was very far out of his comfort zone.

Everyone here looked classy and rich, and he was only one of those things.

Their sever had taken an almost nervous look at Roadhog and Reinhardt, but had led them to a long table on the balcony, which overlooked a beautiful view of the city. The seats there were larger and sturdier than the ones inside, and so would be able to bear the weight of their larger friends, and they all took their places around the table.

As he looked around, Junkrat noted that there wasn’t a great deal of other people on the balcony, and approved of the privacy it afforded. The thought relaxed him, and conversation was easy enough to fall into, until the server bought them their menus.

Panic assailed him as he stared at the words; he recognised some and could string others together, but large lumps of it were incomprehensible to him still. He was fairly certain that some of it wasn’t even in English at all, which was confusing until he remembered he was in Africa. He was about to nervously turn to Roadhog, but Roadie leaned in before he could.

“Gonna get the chicken or beef?” He rumbled quietly, and a wide grin spread over Junkrat’s face. Sometimes, he could kiss that great lug.

“Dunno mate.” He whispered back. “Might see what else there is.”

Roadhog took the hint. “Fish. Salmon sounds good, ay? Or whitin’. Might get the whitin’.”

He nodded along, pretending to read the menu, and they continued like this until Roadhog had read something out that Junkrat liked the sound of. He ordered lamb shanks, for he was fond of lamb – there were sheep running wild in the Outback, joining forces with the cattle that were remnants of the millions of acres grazing properties that were destroyed and rendered unusable by the omnics and the omnium explosion. If you came across them, they made for very good eating, and there were those old graziers who’d joined the ALF and, once their properties were destroyed and their livelihoods taken, who tried to keep runs of cattle and sheep operating near Junkertown to sell the meat. Of course, Junkrat would be willing to bet these new paddocks were a lot more heavily guarded than most cattle properties. Whenever he had spotted a wild beast while out in the bush, it had been the best part of his day – it meant _real_ eating, something heartier and better than snakes and bugs and rabbits. Course, you had to be careful – long horned scrub bulls were usually madder than cut snakes, and would happily gore you through the stomach if you let them get the drop on you.

He’d caught feral sheep and gutted them, and spent a few days defending his camp as he feasted on mutton – catching a sheep or beast was really the only time you could have a decent meal, seeing as Australia didn’t have a lot of large native animals, and kangaroos were no good. Usually worm infested, they didn’t make for good eating unless you were desperate. Wild pigs were alright, but a bugger to catch, and the camels? Bloody millions of them, but they’d trample the shit out of you if you weren’t in a good ambush spot when trying to bring one down.

Junkrat had butchered many a sheep or beast, but he’d never really had reason to apply names to the cuts of meat – he didn’t know what _shanks_ were, so he’d ordered it because he was curious. If it turned out to be a weird rich-people-eat-the-guts-and-other-gross-shit-just-because-they’re-rich-and-can-pay-for-it thing, he was not gonna be impressed. He hadn’t taken his sole remaining possessions and gotten out of Australia just to have to eat guts and other poorly thought of meat bits all over again.

“What do you reckon, dude?” Lúcio leaned in from where he was sitting on his other side. “Is this place fancy or what?”

“Super fancy.” Junkrat agreed. “Flashiest place I’ve ever been, I reckon.”

Lúcio nodded. “It’s kinda weird.” He whispered. “I don’t like Vishkar and I don’t like _her_ , but I gotta admit, this place is pretty awesome.”

Junkrat nodded. “Suits are shit, but yeah, this place is swish.” A thought occurred to him then. “Since Vishkar built this place, y’reckon there’d be suits floatin’ around.”

Lúcio looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, I thought there would be too, but Hana was like ‘you gotta come!’. She didn’t think there’d be Vishkar dudes still in Africa.” He lowered his voice further. “‘Sides, I wanted to come because this is a chance to explore enemy territory.”

Junkrat snorted with laughter and Lúcio continued, now grinning a bit.

“A tour of enemy territory led by the enemy herself. Couldn’t plan it better if I tried, man.” He snickered, and then Black Suit materialised at Satya’s shoulder just as she was taking a sip of the wine they’d ordered for the table.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Vaswani.” He said greasily. “But some more Vishkar associates have arrived for lunch. Perhaps you’d like them to join you? We can have an extra table drawn up.”

There was a very uncomfortable silence, and beside him, Lúcio was frozen solid. Satya recovered first, and Junkrat watched as she carefully placed her glass back in its proper place.

“My associates? Did they give a name?”

“A Mr Laghari, a Mr Kashyap, and a Miss Chakrabarti.” Black Suit stuttered over the pronunciation, but clearly gave it his best shot.

“Ah.” Satya looked intensely contemplative for a moment, and her gaze darted to Lúcio for a second. “That would be wonderful…” She said slowly, and flashed a warning glance at them all when Lúcio started and tried to stifle the movement. “… but maybe their schedule won’t permit a lengthy lunch. In any case, perhaps you could take me to them?”

She stood neatly, and Black Suit stepped back to allow her space. Satya gave him a very professional looking smile.

“If you could perhaps give me a moment…?”

“Of course, Miss Vaswani.” Black Suit scooted away to give them privacy, and the moment Satya judged him far enough away, she leaned in, voice serious.

“They will all recognise you.” She said quietly, words directed to Lúcio, and then, to Junkrat’s surprise, she looked at him and Hog. “What’s more, Chakrabarti was a shareholder in Hyde Global.”

 _Hyde Global_ … why did that sound familiar?

“She will recognise you two as the Junkers who destroyed Hyde Tower.” Satya’s expression was a little disapproving, and Junkrat abruptly remembered the suit in Sydney who’d double crossed them.

“Oh yeah!” He said cheerfully. “We did blow that up, didn’t we, Hoggie?”

Roadhog grunted in acknowledgment.

Satya’s expression was _definitely_ disapproving. “Therefore, I think it would be wise if the three of you made yourselves scarce.” She cast a worried look over her shoulder. “I think I can head them off. I know Gajadhar Laghari quite well – he’s an architech in my department. I should be able to convince him that lunch would be inconvenient. It would still be much safer if you hid for the time being.”

“Question!” McCree drawled. “What about bounty hunters? Are we recognisable to Vishkar suits?”

“And ex-leaders of the Shimada clan?” Hanzo added smoothly, sounding unperturbed.

“I’m not entirely sure.” Satya was evidently thinking hard. “Perhaps it would be wise if you two also went with Lúcio.”

“Where to?” Lúcio asked urgently.

“The toilets.” Satya answered promptly. “Unless they have been meddling with my design, there will be bathrooms to your left once you leave the balcony. Stay there until you hear word.”

With that, she set off and Black Suit scurried after her, trailing along in her wake as she moved with brisk, business-like steps.

Lúcio was on his feet in an instant, and Junkrat, Roadhog, Hanzo and McCree followed suit. They snuck off the balcony and back inside, and made a beeline to the toilets. Lúcio spotted the severely dressed corporate goons talking to Satya and stopped to watch, but Hog simply grabbed the back of his shirt and shoved him into the toilets.

In case someone else came in and wondered what the fuck was going on when they saw a group of men loitering tensely by the sinks, they each took a stall and locked the door.

“Do you guys reckon Symmetra’ll keep those Vishkar dudes away?” That was Lúcio, and there was a strange mix of aggression and worry in his tone, like he wanted to go and confront them, but was also prudent enough to realise that was a bad idea.

“Course she will.” McCree drawled. “She’s smart, she’d know how much everything will get fucked up if people start realisin’ we’re all collaboratin’ on somethin’.”

“True.” Lúcio sounded a touch more cheerful then. “That man Symmetra was talking to – the Indian man in the blue suit. He looks pretty smarmy, doesn’t he?”

“The smarmiest.” Junkrat agreed.

 “D’you think that’s the guy she knows? Laghari or whatever?” Lúcio had evidently made a valiant effort to pronounce Laghari’s name correctly, but it ended up sounding like ‘leg-hairy’. Lúcio laughed then, apparently distracted by something. “Did you really blow up a tower in Sydney, Rat?”

Junkrat giggled. “Bloody oath we did! Wanker of a CEO hired us an’ tried t’doublecross us.”

“Man! Really! What happened to him? What’s he been doing since his tower exploded? Has he gone bankrupt?”

“Nah, he’s roight busy bein’ worm food.” Junkrat chuckled. “He got a first class view of his tower goin’ explodey, but.”

Lúcio hesitated, tone uncertain. “You… blew him up?”

“Yep! Tied him t’the top of his tower and watched him go explodey.” Junkrat’s expression went dark as he remembered how the suit had tried to trick them, to _use_ them. His leg started bouncing, and he wished he’d been permitted to bring explosives. Well, he did have a grenade on his person, but no one else knew about it. No way was he going out in bot central without protection. “Feh. Served him roight. Filthy suits.”

“Wow.” Lúcio whispered quietly.

Hanzo spoke then. “It’s a shame Vishkar had to ruin our lunch. Our food has probably arrived by now. It’ll be going cold.”

“Fuckin’ wankers.” Junkrat grumbled. “I wanted t’eat that.”

Everyone else made noises of agreement.

They had to be silent a few times when the door opened and someone came in to use the dunny, and Junkrat had never realised how awkward it was to listen to a bloke pissing while he wasn’t himself also using the urinal. Eventually, McCree announced that Ana had just texted him and they were free to go back to the table.

When they got there, they found that yes, their food had been delivered, and Satya had also returned.

Lúcio had no sooner thrown himself into his seat than leaned forwards and demanded to know what had happened.

Satya, who was halfway through a bite of salad, took her time in putting down her fork before replying. “Fortunately, they were in a hurry, otherwise they would have joined us for lunch. I spoke to them for a bit, and while Kashyap knows about Overwatch and that I am here, the other two don’t, so he saw the importance of leaving as well. They’ve gone now, but they will be back around four, so we have to be gone by then.”

Lúcio visibly relaxed. “Oh. Well… that’s good.”

Satya nodded, and then deliberately turned and started speaking to Ana. Lúcio ignored the snub, however, and started chatting to Hana instead.

Junkrat wasn’t really invested, for he was too busy checking out the stuff on his plate. He seemed to have a chunk of lamb on a bone perched in the centre of a deep half bowl half plate thing, with the best smelling sauce he’d ever smelt in his life drizzled over it. He took a bite and nearly moaned, it was that good. The sauce was thick and rich and full of caramelised onion, and he was pretty sure there was wine in it too. He took a bite of the lamb and nearly died on the spot – he’d never eaten anything so tender, with the meat so juicy and just falling off the bone. It was, in his humble opinion, the best meal he’d ever eaten.

It was enough that Junkrat tuned out of the conversation for most of their meal, so intent was he on his lunch, savouring the flavours and trying to figure out where on the lamb the shanks would have come from. He eventually asked Hog and was informed that the shank was from the lower part of the leg, which made sense, considering the shape of the bone. The conversation turned from the Vishkar suits to the architecture of the hotel, and how Satya had designed and built it, and then to their mission, and the Unity Day festivities. 

Junkrat finished his shanks and was seriously contemplating licking his plate clean when Ana’s phone rang. She got up from the table to answer it, and when she came back she informed them that they were wanted back at the museum soon, to everyone’s disappointment. Still, full of delicious food and very content, it was a happy group that clustered near the curb, waiting for their taxi to arrive.

Junkrat, feeling relaxed and a bit sleepy, was absently thinking about a new style of mine he’d been working on recently, and almost didn’t notice that thanks to Roadhog’s subtle reshuffling, he was now standing next to Satya. He only realised when she said good afternoon to him.

“Huh?” Junkrat’s head jerked up, and he almost recoiled in surprise at seeing her there. “What? Oh – ‘Metra. Didn’t see ya there. G’day.”

Her lips curved in a slight smile. “You seemed very absorbed.”

“Thinkin’ ‘bout a bomb.” He said cheerily. “Got a new design I’ve been workin’ on.”

“I see.” There was almost an amused tilt to her lips now. “I’m sorry I asked.”

Junkrat giggled, his grin turning a touch sheepish as he looked at her properly. Satya was standing with her hip cocked to the side, the bags with her purchases from the arcade held loosely in one hand, and she was smiling at him. It made for a very pretty picture. He tucked his prosthetic behind his neck and stretched, momentarily extending to his full height, then slipping back into the more comfortable slouch to offer her a grin.

“Now y’mention it, y’might be roight.”

Satya’s smile widened, but she hid it beneath her fingers. “I’m sure. So what did you think of my hotel?” Satya asked, folding her arms, and Junkrat grinned at her.

“It’s unbelievable.” He realised how that could be construed and tripped over himself in order to correct it. “Not that I didn’t think y’could build it, I mean! I meant, uh, it’s unbelievably _amazin’_. Y’know. The buildin’. Not the design. Wait, no, I mean, yeah, ‘course the design is amazin’, uh…” Junkrat stuttered to a stop and gave her a faintly nervous grin as behind him, he heard Roadhog give an exasperated sigh.

From the other side of Satya, Ana coughed noisily, though she seemed to be grinning.

Thankfully, Satya didn’t seem offended; it looked like she was still smiling, but she was also hiding it behind her fingers again. Still, it made his grin broader, for he realised what that meant – she was finding him amusing.

It was a very cheerful thought.

“So, uh, y’got plans s’arvo?” He asked, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, and Satya pursed her lips slightly.

“I have a call scheduled with Sanjay, which will eat up a few hours. After that, I suppose I’ll ask Winston if he has any tasks for me. And you?”

Junkrat shrugged. “Dunno. Workin’ on me mines, prob’ly. Could do with some more traps, too.”

Satya looked exasperated. “You brought all your building materials along too?”

“‘Course I did! How’m I gonna restock with nothin’ t’build it from?”

Satya nodded in concession. “I suppose that is fair enough.”

Upon their return to the museum, several of their number got recruited by Winston and 76 to do things, but happily for him, Junkrat and Roadhog weren’t needed, so they headed back to the barracks and sat on their respective beds. Roadie wasn’t in the mood for conversation, so Junkrat hunched back against his headboard and pulled out his notebook to start scribbling. He was dismayed to find that the fountain pen he’d stolen required ink to write, and was therefore useless at the moment, and so he was scribbling with his regular old pencil again.

Junkrat _was_ fine-tuning an inner mechanism of his smoke bomb, it wasn’t like he was doing anything he shouldn’t be… but when he looked over at Satya, who was sitting neatly on her bed with her tablet on in front of her, an earpiece in her ear as she spoke another language – the conference call with Sanjay Korpal, he presumed, but once, she’d looked at him as he looked at her and when she’d registered what he was holding, her eyes had narrowed dangerously. It had made him hunch down further, trying to hide from her view, though he doubted he was very successful.

Satya held her phone in her hand even as she spoke to Korpal, her brows furrowed and her gaze intent, and then, in his pocket, Junkrat’s phone buzzed. He started slightly, and pulled it from his pocket with some trepidation.

He was right – it was from Satya.

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
You had better not be doing what I think you are doing

Junkrat puzzled over her message for a long while, attempting to make sure he had the meaning straight. When at last he was confident he knew what she’d said (she thought he was drawing her again!), he indignantly typed a reply.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
I aint

He looked up and shot her a grin as she read his reply and raised a disbelieving brow, then looked startled and hurriedly said something into her earpiece. A slow smile spread across his face, and Junkrat wondered if he could continue to hold her attention rather than this Korpal bloke. It would be a fun game, and Junkrat always liked to play games.

His phone buzzed again, and he eagerly devoured the message.

 **{96856} Symmetra  
** Then why are you looking at me?

Junkrat hesitated over that one. Clearly, once he’d figured out what she’d written, she thought he was looking at her because he was drawing her again. He hesitated some more, wondering if he dared. He’d never really been one for impulse control, and was still thinking about how he could distract her from Korpal, so he typed out a reply without really thinking it through. Besides, she’d made herself clear. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose. The message sent, and he abruptly realised that he was, quite possibly, an idiot.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
got a great view

He looked up to see her reaction, and was rewarded by Satya’s mouth dropping open a fraction as she read the message, and then Junkrat was thrilled to see a hint of colour smudged over her cheeks. Satya stared at her phone for a long time, fingers tapping restlessly against her thigh, and then finally, she responded.

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
_Jamie_

He supposed that was supposed to be a warning of some sort, but his confidence was boosted despite her reply, and so Junkrat replied again quickly. Thank fuck for autocorrect.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
a _real_ nice view

He grinned at her broadly as she read the text and her smile turned exasperated and wry. There was a pause, and he saw her teeth sink gently into her lower lip as she responded.

 **{96856} Symmetra  
** Don’t be silly

His tongue curled round his golden tooth as he grinned over her message. Ah, so now she thought he was just joking. To be fair, it did sort of sound like something he’d say when he was just fucking around.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
I aint

He watched Satya’s brows arch and giggled quietly to himself.

 **{96856} Symmetra  
** I’m sure

He pondered his reply for a moment.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
didnt say I was jokin

Satya’s expression turned a contemplative sort of puzzled, as if trying to figure him out. Junkrat was extremely pleased to see that she still had colour in her cheeks.

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
what do you mean?

He looked up and flashed her a broad grin, then huddled down again as Mei walked past. Mei’s interruption reminded him that there were others in the room, and Junkrat peered suspiciously around, in case anyone had noticed the silent conversation he and Satya were holding. He didn’t think anyone was looking, and so he looked down at his phone again, and realised he hadn’t replied. Junkrat’s breath quickened as he considered telling her the truth.

He chickened out.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
nuthin

He could see Satya frowning as she read his message, evidently trying to puzzle it out. Junkrat had considered saying that he was serious, but it seemed a bit… soon. No, not soon. He grimaced at the memory of the day she’d found his notebook, because Satya had made it clear she wanted nothing more than professionalism from him. So it wasn’t too soon. It was just… unwanted. By her, anyway. The thought was enough to make him feel slightly morose, and he missed the way Satya’s brows rose and she looked almost incredulously in his direction, as if she’d just figured something out.

His phone buzzed, and he checked it automatically, then nearly jumped out of his skin when he read her text.

 **{96856} Symmetra  
** Are you flirting with me?

Junkrat stared at her words for a long time, even when he was sure he knew what she’d written. What in the hell was he going to say? Should he reply at all? He could blow it all off and hide in the common room until she forgot. It was definitely an option. Still, he wanted to say yes, and wanted her to smile and say that she liked it. He wanted it, but it’d never happen. Still, he had to say something back, and Junkrat ran through his options. What the hell was happening or how he’d gotten this brave he had no clue, but Junkrat knew he needed to say something, and he figured falling back on something playful and joking was probably a safe bet.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
dunno. is it workin?

He even figured out where his phone kept its punctuation for that one, and glanced up quickly to see the flush of colour on her cheeks deepen slightly, and she looked up and met his gaze. Satya looked right at him, her gaze clear and direct, with a hint of something like thoughtfulness in her eyes, and then with a thrill Junkrat realised she was taking his question _seriously_. He wasn’t sure if anything was going to come of this, but the fact that she hadn’t shut him down cold yet meant something, he was sure of it. Yesterday meant something too – she’d been open and pleasant and he’d been caught red-handed staring at her arse, and she’d barely minded. She’d let him tuck her hair behind her ear and she’d _blushed_ when he’d done so. And the little display she’d put on when she’d readjusted her stockings on the roof and nearly made him spontaneously combust, well, she couldn’t _not_ know what she was doing.

And she’d looked at him.

Satya had been embarrassed and flustered when he mentioned it, but it had been so utterly satisfying to see her gaze roaming down his body that he hadn’t been able to help it, and now he wondered that if maybe if he hadn’t had said anything, would her gaze have lingered? Something was going on, he was sure of it. Maybe this little texted flirtation or whatever the fuck it was would help him figure out what.

The thought was enough to make him feel bolder than ever.

His phone buzzed again, and he looked down to decipher her words.

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
It shouldn’t

For a moment, disappointment hit him like a punch to the gut, and then the subtlety of her words hit him, and Junkrat realised it was more disgruntled, like she thought it shouldn’t be working – but it was.

He looked up to meet her gaze again, and gave her a slow grin. Satya smiled at him in response, a bit hesitant and her cheeks still stained with red, and then she looked startled and clapped a hand to her ear before looking away to speak rapidly and apologetically in that other language. Satya then frowned and very deliberately placed her phone face down and picked up her tablet. Junkrat giggled to himself quietly – he’d done it. He’d distracted her from Korpal, and that made the victory of knowing that he’d been successfully flirting with her even sweeter. Because that was flirting. He was _sure_ of it.

The longer he thought about it though, the more confused he felt. Why would she say that? Satya had made it very clear when she discovered his notebook that she felt disdain for the idea of his attraction to her, and she’d made it even clearer that nothing would ever happen between them. So why the sudden change of heart? He lay down on his pillow, his good hand cupping the back of his neck as he frowned at the ceiling. Junkrat was officially more confused than ever before, unless… she’d changed her mind. His eyes popped wide as he considered it.

Maybe, she hadn’t wanted or intended anything then, but this was now, and people changed. Maybe she liked him now. He thought back to her recent behaviour – she was definitely more open now, more willing to talk to him and she reacted more, talking and laughing and smiling, and he was pretty sure, flirting. Just a bit, anyway. Junkrat was pretty sure that at the very least, Satya liked him. Maybe just as friends… but if that were true, why would she have said ‘It shouldn’t’?

By all accounts, it didn’t make sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> developments ahoy! look at these nerds, flirting by texting each other when they're literally sitting across from one another
> 
> Satya's past denial and at acceptance, and is heading towards admitting it~


	40. Tender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya explores Numbani for a bit and runs into the Junkers.

Numbani was a beautiful place.

She remembered it, of course, from the last time she’d been here, but then she’d been building the Sable and hadn’t had time to properly explore. The Unity Day celebrations were to start tomorrow, and as they still had a little free time, she was determined to explore this wonderful city, and explore she had.

She’d spent roughly an hour just wandering the streets, and when the crowds began to press her too much, she retreated to a little café and had a solitary cup of tea in the hopes the crowd would die down a bit. To her disappointment, it was only growing, for though the parade didn’t actually start until tomorrow, people were still flooding the streets, some putting up last minute decorations, and the vendors were enthusiastically selling their wares to people who had come to look. The amount of people about reminded her strongly of New York, and the one and only time she’d ventured out onto the footpaths of _that_ city.

Finally, Satya got up with a sigh; she’d have to brave the throng if she wanted to get back to the museum. Slipping out of the café, she frowned a bit anxiously at the people and the noise and began walking quite briskly, weaving in and out of families stopping here and there to gawk at some new attraction. She sincerely regretted coming down without her noise dampening visor or at the very least some earplugs, and walked faster, though it didn’t seem to be getting her anywhere. People laughed and shouted and on the street, cars honked and screeched as they fought to pass through the congested city centre.

A family with a loudly chattering little boy passed her by and Satya moved to the side to avoid them, and nearly collided with a man who barked something at her in a guttural tone and pushed past her. Satya pulled her arms in around her and moved faster, seeking a clear space. The beat of her heart accelerated as her anxiety grew and the crowds swirled around her in a riot of colours and the smell of sweaty bodies, and Satya found a blank piece of wall and leaned against it for a moment, heedless of the grime it might possess, so she could attempt to decompress.

Unfortunately, the busy street was a less than ideal place to do so, and it wasn’t working. Agitation working deep in her belly, Satya opened her eyes and made the executive decision to walk as fast as she could to the café she could see up the street; she no longer cared how long she had to sit there, for it was better than making herself move through the pressing crowds.

Thankfully, she reached the café without any problem, and though she had to stop and breathe herself calm again before she ordered a drink to avoid looking strange, she managed it. The café was trendy and indie, full of pierced faces and brightly coloured hair, but it the air was refreshingly cool and sweet, and she could smell the bright scent of citrus wafting from the counter.

She was still waiting for her peach iced tea when she spotted two familiar figures passing in front of the café windows, and seeing an opportunity to get back to the hotel with company, which would make the trip through the pressing crowds much more tolerable, she pulled out her phone and hurriedly texted one of them.

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
Hello

The reply came quite promptly.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
gday

Satya raised a brow and reminded herself to teach him about apostrophes. The last messages she’d sent him were still visible, the ones where he’d definitely been flirting with her yesterday… essentially calling her pretty and asking if his flirting was working. The memory of it made her bite her lip, because she was pretty sure it _had_ been working, much to her annoyance. He shouldn’t be able to affect her like this. It was so illogical and yet he was so fascinating… it wasn’t fair.

Still, she wanted to see him, if only to get out of the crowds.

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
I just watched you walk past. Would you like a drink?

There was a part of her that was hopping up and down, shouting that inviting him for drinks was a bad idea, but Satya ignored that part. As she watched, she spotted Junkrat as he fought through the throng of people on the sidewalk to double back and peer in through the window, brow furrowed, and she gave a little wave when his gaze found hers. His grin widened and he turned to say something to his companion, and then he entered the café by himself. Satya watched Roadhog pass by the window and head off down the street, and wondered why he hadn’t come in.

“G’day, g’day.” He said lazily, dropping into the seat opposite hers. She could smell the wind on him; warm and full of the oppressive scents of crowded and sweaty people. Satya hoped the air conditioned café would soon chase it away.

“Good afternoon.” She replied. “What brings you down to the festivities?”

Junkrat’s grin widened. “Explorin’. Wanted t’see what all the fuss was about, yeah?” His grin abruptly disappeared and was replaced by a scowl when he spotted one of the café workers, who was an omnic. “Too many bots, but.” He spat through gritted teeth.

The omnic arrived at their table and, clearly having realised Junkrat was a new arrival, asked if he was ordering anything. After a second of watching the blatant hostility radiating from Junkrat, the omnic looked a bit uncertain and turned to her instead.

“Yes, I believe so.” She replied in answer to the omnic’s question. “Jamison…? What will you have?”

Junkrat flinched and glared when his name hit her ears. “Milkshake.” He spat out without even glancing at their sever, looking even more furious than ever. “Vanilla.”

The omnic left and Satya braced herself as Junkrat leaned forwards.

“ _Why_ in the _hell_ didja call me _that_ in front of a _bot!?”_ His voice had gone up an octave by the time he ended the sentence despite being hissed quietly through clenched teeth, and Satya realised she’d very badly misjudged how well he would take it.

“Jamie, calm down.” She said quietly, keeping her voice composed. “I simply thought that ‘Junkrat’ might be a bit recognisable. You have been in the news for attacking omnics before. This one might have known your name. I thought Jamison was much more covert.”

Junkrat took a deep breath and noisily exhaled, and to her horror, she realised he was holding a grenade. To her relief, she then saw him relax his grip on the bomb, which he shoved back into his pocket. The situation was volatile, certainly, but she hadn’t realised how close he’d been to detonating explosives. “Roight. ‘Spose so.” He said flatly. After a moment of what was clearly some intense thinking, Junkrat leaned forwards again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean t’snap atcha, not really. Names are a touchy subject, y’know? Good idea, but. Makes sense not t’call me Junkrat.” Junkrat took another deep breath and his expression calmed more, bringing him back to a quiet neutral. “I’d appreciate it if y’called me by a different name, but.”

“Do you have any preferences?” Satya inquired, eager to appease him further.

Junkrat looked thoughtful for a moment. “Call me Bruce.” He said decidedly, and Satya raised a brow at his choice but nodded.

“Very well, Bruce.” She said rather teasingly, then reached out and covered his hand, which was angrily playing with a packet of sugar, with hers. Junkrat stilled and raised startled eyes to hers. “I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I shouldn’t have used your name. I just didn’t really have time to think of something once I’d realised I shouldn’t call you ‘Junkrat’.”

“‘S’okay.” Junkrat said with a small, lopsided smile. “With any luck, he’ll have forgotten me name already.”

It wasn’t long after that that the omnic reappeared, carrying their drinks. “A peach iced tea for Satya.” He said, setting her drink in front of her before turning to Junkrat. “And a vanilla milkshake for Jamison.”

Satya had to stifle her reaction as Junkrat froze and glared, his expression such a comical mix between outrage and suspicion that she almost laughed. The omnic moved on to the next table, and Junkrat hunched his shoulders and leaned in low.

“Didja _hear_ that? Filthy bot said me name.” His voice and expression was filled with outraged indignation, and Satya hid her smile in her serviette at the look on his face before speaking.

“I heard it.”

“How’d it know _your_ name?” He asked, flat suspicion in his tone. “Got surveillance? Screening? Did it look y’up the moment y’sat down?” His eyes widened. “Fuck. Y’think it’s lookin’ _me_ up? Coppers’ll be here in a tic, I’ll bet me left fuckin’ arsecheek-”

“Jamie.” Satya interrupted before he could get too carried away. “This is a global chain of cafés. I have a membership card with my name on it. Besides, what will he find if he looks up ‘Jamison’? There are plenty of men named Jamison in the world.”

“Oh.” Junkrat looked like he was trying to find something else to be outraged about as he took a sip of his milkshake. “Oi, these omnic bastards, I ordered a milkshake, this is _clearly_ a fuckin’ thickshake, too much ice cream, what the fuck-”

Satya sighed. Clearly, as long as there were omnics in this café, he’d never be happy. Wishing to see him be silent, she reached out with her foot and found his under the table. It worked; Junkrat nearly choked on his milkshake. She nudged him again and then let her foot drop back to a more respectable location. Actually, as well as being enjoyable, his attraction to her was also rather useful.

“You’re making a scene.” She said in gentle admonishment. “If you’re not careful I’ll have to have you thrown out and then you will have neither milkshake _nor_ thickshake.”

Junkrat’s expression changed from bemused to wickedly thoughtful in the next instant, and he leaned forwards, his body language almost threating, and rather… suggestive. It made Satya straighten up and lace her fingers in front of her like a shield.

“Gonna throw me out, ay?” Junkrat’s smile widened lazily, revealing a glimmer of golden teeth. “I might remind ya, y’invited me.”

“ _I_ might remind _you_ that you promised to behave in public.” Satya retorted, and Junkrat snorted with laughter.

“Touché.” Junkrat hoisted his milkshake as if toasting her, and drank deeply. Satya felt her lips turn up into a wry smile, and she sipped at her iced tea.

“So how come I got an invite, anyway?” He continued, raising his brows curiously.

Satya’s smile faded, and she looked away. “Um…” She took a deep breath, gathered her thoughts, and continued. “I misjudged how many people would be down here. I – large crowds tend to be make me feel… uncomfortable. I simply wanted to know if I could go back to the museum with you. Going with a friendly face will make it much more tolerable than being on my own.”

Junkrat tilted his head to the side and he was quiet for a moment, and then he turned around to peer out the window at the hordes of people passing by. “Uncomfortable how?” He asked, and Satya sighed slightly.

“I’m not entirely sure how I would explain it to you, seeing as I’m fairly sure you’re quite at home in a crowd.”

Junkrat nodded firmly. “Too roight. Ain’t nuthin’ easier than losin’ coppers in a crowd. Good fer pickin’ pockets, too.”

His grin was too pleased, and Satya raised a brow. “…I see. Well, for me, there’s just… too many people. I need some space or I feel as though I am being stifled.” She looked at him, unsure if he would understand. “It’s like I can’t breathe.”

“Huh.” Junkrat had his eyes narrowed gently, evidently thinking things over. “Well, course y’can come back with Hoggie an’ me.”

Relief flowed through her. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” Junkrat sipped his drink happily. “When d’ya wanna head off?”

“Oh, I don’t want to get in the way if you have plans.” Satya stirred her drink a trifle anxiously. “Were you headed anywhere in particular?”

Junkrat shook his head and leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed and at ease, and then an omnic passed by their table, heading to another table along with a young woman and a small child. It was almost comical how quickly he remembered he was surrounded by omnics and curled in on himself, expression hostile. Satya disapproved of his stance on omnics – most omnics were pleasant and she was happy to call them friend – but she knew that to bring it up would only make him defensive and offended. After all, no pleasantries she might cite could overlook the fact that omnics had been the cause of his parents’ deaths and the radioactive contamination of his homeland. Then, she supposed one could go further and blame every hardship he’d suffered, his missing limbs and teeth, his patchy hair and illiteracy, on omnics.

Therefore, Satya decided to keep her mouth shut on the subject.

“Nah, we was just wanderin’ round.” Junkrat said, continuing their conversation, clearly oblivious to the direction of her thoughts. “Checkin’ out the sights, seein’ if there ain’t nuthin’ t’be flogged.”

That made her roll her eyes. “Jamie. You’re supposed to be behaving yourself.”

His lips curled into a broad grin, glints of gold flashing amongst his teeth. “I am! Ain’t nicked anythin’ yet.”

“ _Yet_.” Satya enunciated, tone severe.

“Yet.” Junkrat agreed, his expression very pleased.

“In that case, it’s a very good thing I happened to see you. If anything, I think I can keep you out of trouble.”

Junkrat giggled and leaned forwards to rest his elbows on the table as he looked at her, his expression daring. “Ah, ‘s that a challenge?”

 _Oh dear_. “No.” Satya said firmly. “It most certainly is not. If you think that’s an invitation to start stealing purses and drawing attention to yourself, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

His grin widened and his giggle lilted up in sheer pleasure. Junkrat’s shoulders scrunched up as he laughed, his fingers splayed, and Satya watched the movement, and though it was something she’d seen him do many times before, it seemed that now the motion was endearing and rather adorable, like a small child.

“Yes y’do!” He gasped out, still rocking in his seat from laughter, and a giggle escaped from her own lips. Satya muffled the sound with her fingers and reached for her iced tea, missing Junkrat’s entranced expression as he watched her laugh.

“Well, maybe I do.” Satya paused to regulate her smile but didn’t quite succeed in bringing her expression back to neutral. “In any case, you’ve still got to behave.”

His grin was delighted and just a bit cocky. ‘Yeah? What’s in it fer me?”

This was heading into very dangerous territory, but Satya found she was willing to see where it went. She leaned forwards a fraction, arching a brow and curling her lips into a smirk. “That depends.”

Junkrat leaned in too, his posture mirroring hers. “On what?” His voice was deep and husky, and even if Satya hadn’t consciously recognised that her body was reacting, reacting she _definitely_ was.

“How well you listen.” Satya purred, quite without realising how much her voice had changed; she was forgetting to monitor herself as she usually did, too caught up in the moment. There seemed to be a teasing atmosphere settling over them, and she was enjoying it immensely.

Junkrat grinned at her crookedly as he shrugged slightly. “An’ if I don’t?”

Satya leaned back, crossing her legs beneath the table and lifting her chin, staring him down with faintly curved lips. “Significant trouble, of course.”

His grin widened, and he drummed his fingers over the table as the door opened and more people entered the café, bringing with them a warm blast of air. “That ain’t much of a deterrent.” Junkrat raised a brow at her. “Gonna need some more specific examples.”

Damn, he’d walked her into a bit of a trap; she didn’t really have any idea what to threaten him with, so Satya arched a brow in return. “Oh? I believe warning you would rather defeat the purpose of a punishment.”

He snickered and leaned forwards, chin resting in the palm of his prosthetic. “Punishment, ay? Sounds forbiddin’ enough. What, gonna make me beg forgiveness on me knees?”

That was a remarkably appealing scenario, and the resulting thoughts made her jerk slightly as she realised just how far she’d travelled into areas of thought that were, well. Off limits. Satya raised startled eyes to Junkrat, who was watching her with a mix of measured delight and something dark and intense that made her breath quicken.

“Something of that sort.” She murmured, and grabbed her drink to occupy some time. When Satya finally turned her gaze back to him, she found Junkrat watching her with his head tilted to the side, and his expression had the unnerving effect of making her feel like he knew what she was thinking.

At that moment, the omnic who had served them reappeared at their table.

“Sorry to interrupt.” He began. “But the café will be closing in ten minutes.”

“Oh, thank you.” Satya replied, though she wasn’t happy about it. The café closing meant she had to go outside, in that crowd. She frowned out the window, where, though it was getting to be late in the afternoon, people were still dashing to and fro. Junkrat correctly interpreted her thoughts.

“No need t’worry.” He said cheerily, losing his suspicious expression as their omnic server drifted off to inform other patrons of the nearby closing time. “Hoggie makes an excellent batterin’ ram.”

The thought made her snicker. “Does he indeed?”

Junkrat nodded emphatically. “Mmm-hmm. Gets his glare on and fuckin’ steamrolls through people. Like t’see anyone stand in his way.” He had his hands up, using them to parody the way Roadhog could just barge through a crowd. With his immense stature and imposing appearance, Satya had no trouble believing it.

“Mm, I can imagine.” Satya absently lifted a hand to her throat and ran her fingers down the slim chain of her necklace until she found the charm nestled just above her cleavage. She didn’t pay any attention to it until she noticed that the direction of Junkrat’s gaze had dipped down, and his ears were tinged with a delicate shade of pink. She waited for him to reply, but when he didn’t, his attention obviously on other things, her lips curved into a grin.

“You’re staring, Jamie.”

Junkrat jerked his head up like she’d stuck him with a pin, and the expression on his face was so guilty that she almost laughed. As it was, she knew the fact that she was smiling and clearly amused was confusing him.

“Ah… sorry.” He mumbled, fingers scuttling nervously over the table.

There was an alarmingly large part of her that wanted to say ‘don’t be’, but she knew that was suicide. Satya had accepted that she liked him. She had even accepted that if presented with the opportunity, she doubted she would decline to kiss him. What was the unavoidable truth, however, was that she couldn’t get entangled with a man like him. It just… wasn’t acceptable. Vishkar would never allow it, and so, while she enjoyed these little teasing moments (it was perhaps unwise and risked creating more intimacy between them, when ultimately, they’d both be disappointed) such thoughts as the ones she was having right now were generally to be discouraged. Still, the part of her that wanted to kiss him and to hell with the consequences was getting to be a rather loud voice inside her head.

Satya was thankful that at least for now, her common sense was still in control.

It wasn’t necessarily that she was prudish or frigid, the way she was pushing away any and all thoughts of Junkrat that entered dangerous territory – it was that Satya was able to recognise her own limits, and by setting up boundaries and abiding by them (she sighed for a moment a little wistfully, but pulled herself together) she was in the long run protecting herself… and her heart. It wasn’t fair to either of them to start something that couldn’t be finished.

“It’s fine.” She murmured, then looked about them, to where other patrons were leaving. “I think we had better leave soon.”

Junkrat nodded. “C’mon, we can track down Hoggie.” He sounded rather relieved she hadn’t chosen to continue with their previous topic.

Satya gathered her purse and straightened her clothes before standing, and followed Junkrat to the door, where she bit her lip. The discomfort she felt in crowds was stupid and she _knew_ it was stupid, but try as she might, she’d never figured out a way to get over it, so now she typically avoided areas of high traffic unless she had a clear plan of how to get in and out. It was silly not to have anticipated that so many people would be downtown for the festivities, even if the actual parade hadn’t yet occurred.

Satya found herself walking much closer to Junkrat than she would have normally, and though she might have expected to be uncomfortable with his proximity, the fact that she was with someone and not on her own was a relief, and made her feel far better about things. The resemblance to the crushing throngs on the sidewalks of New York was back; people crowded her as they walked past and Satya frowned at them all. At that moment, a man speaking loudly into his phone so to be heard above the din failed to watch where he was going and shoulder checked her. Satya stumbled backwards and Junkrat grabbed her arm and tugged her behind him to snarl ‘Oi, watch where yer goin’, _mate’_ , in the man’s face. The action was very much appreciated, and Satya stayed where she was, tight at his side as Junkrat led them through the throng.

They found Roadhog at a nearby bookstore, and Satya lingered in a blessedly spacious aisle to eye a book she’d been meaning to purchase for some time while Junkrat spoke in an undertone to his friend. Roadhog headed out the door before them, and to her surprise, Satya found herself being tugged behind the massive Junker after a short yet cordial greeting, Junkrat at her side.

“Hoggie’s our batterin’ ram.” He announced, tone gleeful, and Satya smiled, truly meaning it.

“I could tell.” Roadhog’s presence was making her feel much more comfortable, she had to admit, and the fact that neither of them had questioned her request made her feel quite content, if a little surprised. Satya was used to people finding her habits and mannerisms a little odd and sometimes even questioning her on them, but she was used to it by now, and it didn’t affect her as much as it had when she was young, when she had despised being reminded that she was on the spectrum. In the years since, she’d learnt to acknowledge her limitations, some of them inconvenient as they were, and live with them.

As it turned out, Junkrat had been right. Roadhog did make an excellent battering ram. He steamed through the crowd, leaving people to bounce right off him if they weren’t sensible enough to get out of the way. The breadth of his bulk also meant that as Satya hurried along with Junkrat in Roadhog’s wake, their path was relatively clear of encroaching bodies, so much so that the tension in her shoulders actually started to abate.

The museum had land attached to it, and the direction they’d come meant that they entered the gardens before they came upon the building itself. Satya was still close beside Junkrat, whose conversation was proving to be funny and thoughtful enough that it had been a great help in distracting her from the crowds. There weren’t so many people here, and indeed, here and there pockets of privacy were to be found in amongst the thickets. Roadhog saw something that caught his fancy and stumped over to examine it – after a glance Satya realised he was peering at a bird’s nest. A moment later and she realised he’d inadvertently given Junkrat and herself privacy.

Satya blinked. Perhaps not so inadvertently after all. She recalled moments in the past where Roadhog had left the two of them alone and wondered just how much Junkrat told him. She was on the point of asking when Junkrat grinned at her and idly continued their conversation.

“Feelin’ better now?”

Satya nodded, sufficiently distracted. “Yes, thank you.” Spying a nearby stone bench, she went and sat on it, crossing her legs neatly as Junkrat sat down beside her and stretched, then reached out to pluck a twig from a nearby bush. Satya watched him shred the leaves for a moment. “It’s a lovely place, this.”

Junkrat nodded. “Mm, ‘s nice.”

Satya could see the walls of the museum from here, and she eyed the tall walls for a long moment as a gust of dry, hot air blew over them. After getting used to the cool winter at Gibraltar, Numbani was proving to be uncomfortably warm and sticky.

“I should really be getting back.” She said with an almost reluctant sigh. “I’m sure there’s lots to be done. I’ll see you later.”

There was a hint of disappointment smudged over his features, but Junkrat mustered a grin nonetheless. “Roighto. See ya.”

Satya collected her purse and stood up, and then turned to face him as an impulse to do something fairly reckless abruptly burned through her. The urge to show him affection was something she’d managed to tamp down thus far, but this time the urge had her moving before she could properly address her thoughts and tell herself why it was a bad idea to do so.

She leaned in.

It was awkward, not at all the smooth and elegant act she’d envisioned in her mind. Junkrat, seeing her moving closer, had not held still like she had wanted and instead straightened and leaned back too fast for her to adjust, meaning that when her lips impacted on his skin she, instead of pressing the kiss to his cheek like she’d intended, ending up brushing her lips over the curve of his cheekbone, just below his temple. Her hand brushed over his shoulder for balance, and she rather distractedly noted how tense he’d abruptly gone. His skin was warm beneath her lips, and though it was brief, she still inhaled a breath of his scent; deep and rather delicious, utterly male with a hint of underlying smoke beneath the minty fragrance of his aftershave.

It was rather unfortunate, that her mind chose to realise what she was doing and yell at her mid-way through the kiss, but as Junkrat froze beneath her, a strangled gasp in his throat, Satya froze too and pulled back stiffly. _Gods_ … _what am I doing?_ She stared at him and he stared at her, leaning over him as she still was, and then Satya closed her eyes briefly and decided she had to try and play it off as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

“Thank you again, Jamie.” She said, her words much sincerer than she had really intended, and then she second-guessed her use of his name – it made things even more intimate and she’d have been far better off calling him by his moniker instead. Satya looked briefly at the ground, constructing a hasty mental plan of her escape. “I’ll see you later.”

She had a vague impression of wide molten eyes set in a stunned face, lips parted and breathing quickened, and a warm gust of air blew her hair into her eyes as she turned. Satya swiftly brushed the strands out of her way and then realised Roadhog was standing a little way past the opening of their alcove, and unless he’d arrived just that very second, he’d doubtless seen all.

She managed a smile that was probably a grimace as she passed him by with a quiet ‘excuse me’, and Roadhog turned as she did, following her with his gaze obscured by his expressionless mask as it always was. Satya hurried away, but she didn’t hurry fast enough to avoid hearing Junkrat speak.

“Roadie.” The word held a multitude of inflections; he sounded stunned, as well as wondering and an utterly bewildered questioning tone, but it was the pleasure curling beneath that made her quicken her stride and hurry out of the gardens like she was trying to escape, and escape she was.

Satya admonished herself the whole way up to the guard’s quarters – what an incredibly foolish thing to do! She’d kissed him! Well, not _kissed_ him. That was an entirely different can of worms she was loathe to open. But still, something as simple as a brief kiss pressed to his cheek to show her gratitude was dangerous. Satya was definitely in danger of letting things go too far, and what would happen then? Vishkar would be endlessly circling, poking and prodding as to the cause of her poor conduct, and she would be separated from him, and if she let herself become involved and then had to leave, well. It would be painful for both of them.

She absolutely forbid herself to touch him like that again.

Satya had no sooner settled her own thoughts when her mind skipped back to Junkrat’s expression, the sheer shock underlain with… it wasn’t even that he looked pleased that grated on her. It was the pure contentment, as though this was the pinnacle of his life thus far. _Thus far_ … Satya snorted loudly at herself and garnered looks from a few visitors to the museum as she moved through the lobby. She wouldn’t give him nor her a reason to say _thus far_. Not if she could help it.

The museum was packed, though not so tightly as the crowds on the street, and though Satya would be glad to reach the relative solitude of the guard’s quarters, it wasn’t so much of a chore to pass through the throng.

She sank onto her bed, giving brief replies to those who said hello to her; McCree lounged on his bed with a cigarillo, and Mei had papers spread out over hers which she was frowning at intently. Mercy and Pharah were seated together on Pharah’s bed, chatting about Overwatch before the fall, giggling about when Pharah had been a little girl. The only other person on their bed was Genji, who was sitting on his bed methodically sharpening his blade. Satya could hear some voices issuing from the common area, and assumed the rest were either in there or out exploring, like she had been.

Pulling out her tablet, Satya leaned back on her bed and feigned being busy; instead, she stared blankly at the screen while replaying the kiss over and over in her head. Ooh, she’d done a stupid, careless, irresponsible, foolish thing. How could she have done it? How could she have lost her head?

If Sanjay found out she really would lose her head, or at the very least, her arm. To Satya, they were just about interchangeable. Both meant the end of her life.

The longer she sat there, the more her frown deepened, because while she was aware how reckless and potentially dangerous the move had been, she herself didn’t really feel anything against it. On the contrary, kissing him, if only his cheek, had been rather pleasant. With a faint sigh at how contrary her sense of attraction was, Satya acknowledged the fact that she’d probably go and kiss him again… if she could.

The fact of the matter was, she couldn’t, and she had to stop this, because she be called back to India at some point, and she was only going to hurt herself if she ended up leaving her heart behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so now we see that Satya would totally kiss him if not for the obstacle - Vishkar.
> 
> how and when will said obstacle be removed? ask Lucio


	41. On Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat and Roadhog are helping guard the Doomfist gauntlet, but things go slightly awry.

She liked him. Junkrat was sure of it.

Almost.

Perhaps Satya wasn’t really flirting with him, like he wanted to believe she was. She was… talking to him, certainly, and from what he could see, she was even enjoying herself a little in his company. She’d smiled and even laughed, so things weren’t going so terribly, were they? She’d texted him though, and he was _sure_ the tone of that was flirtatious… hadn’t she as good as admitted his flirting was working? And then yesterday, after he’d met up with her on the streets of the parade…

She’d kissed him.

“Oi.”

Junkrat reluctantly dragged his thoughts away from Satya and turned to Roadhog. “Yeah?”

Roadhog pointed, and Junkrat followed the direction with his eyes until he arrived at the parade on the streets below, where people and omnics were marching and lined up on all sides to watch the parade. Today was Unity Day, and Junkrat was having a blast.

At least until he remembered the day was celebrating bots, at least.

Still, he was having fun. The parade was enormous, and the floats were spectacular. Roadhog had left him on the roof a little earlier and come back with a shitload of food, so they were stuffing their faces, all the while supposedly ‘on guard’. They, along with some of the others, were stationed on rooftops close by to the museum, while the remainder of the team were inside the museum. The Doomfist exhibit was open to the public, and some were rather on edge, including the curator of the museum, who’d been sweating bullets all morning.

Junkrat polished off his hotdog and scanned the street below as one of the enormous floats set off a cannon shot of confetti with a noise that stirred his blood, and some of the confetti was sent high enough that it settled in his hair and on his shoulders and in their food, which pissed Roadie off.

Thoughts drifting back to the starting events of yesterday, Junkrat frowned absently and sat down, and then, thinking the better of it, lay down, folding his hands across his belly. After a moment, his still fingers began to fidget, betraying his internal agitation.

Satya had kissed him. Not properly, mind, but he reckoned he could still feel the warmth of her lips against his skin, and part of him wondered if he’d been dreaming, because this was Satya. _Symmetra_. Perfect and cool and collected, the woman who never betrayed what she was feeling in the name of professionalism. And yet, she talked to him and laughed with him (more and more frequently, too, it must be said). She taught him, using her own free time to teach him to read without asking for anything in return. And the smiles, at first infrequent and disdainful, then wry, then friendly, and now affectionate. Junkrat might have certain deficiencies in social situations, but a poor judge of character he was not – it was important to be able to read faces, because knowing who was a friend and who was going to stab you in the back had often been the difference between life or death in the Outback.

So he was quite certain she looked at him with a degree of affection; she was good at masking her emotions, but when she smiled, he could see it. Junkrat wasn’t sure which direction her feelings towards him headed after that, but he had to admit that yesterday’s kiss did settle things somewhat. It was just… he hadn’t thought she would have ever acted on those feelings, if he actually was right and she did like him a little. Vishkar’s hold over her was too powerful for him to break.

Junkrat was contemplating this rather dismal thought when something small and soft hit him in the face.

He made a startled noise and shot upright to find that Roadhog had just chucked a piece of a hotdog bun at him.

“The fuck!?” Junkrat asked indignantly.

“Stop it.” Roadie rumbled.

“Stop what?” Junkrat flicked the piece of hotdog away from him.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout her.”

Junkrat paused. “I ain’t.”

“Liar.”

His expression felt too guilty, and Junkrat fought to change it to something innocent and was not entirely sure that he’d succeeded.

“I ain’t-”

“Stop it, Fawkes. We’ve got the mission t’think about. Freak out over her later.”

Junkrat frowned. “I-”

Roadhog cut him off again as he idly tested the point of his hook. “I can tell what you’re doing, Rat. You’re freakin’ out over her. We’re s’posed t’be on guard. This ain’t a good headspace t’be in.”

“I’m not freakin’ out-” Junkrat spluttered.

Roadhog looked at him for a long moment. “Fuckin’ liar.”

Junkrat could feel his cheeks heating, but he assumed a defensive air. “Get fucked.”

Roadhog folded his hands neatly over his expansive belly. “She kissed ya, an’ you’ve shut up ever since. I _know_ you, Fawkes. When y’get quiet, somethin’s up.”

Junkrat opened his mouth, shut it, then scowled. “Get _fucked_ -”

“So whadaya gonna do about it?”

Junkrat blinked. “Do about what?”

Roadhog sighed impatiently. “About _Symmetra_ , ya dopey fuckin’ dropkick. She kissed ya. Remember?”

Junkrat bristled. “Course I remember, whadaya think I am-” In fact, there was little else he _could_ remember, other than the feeling of shock and pleasure as Satya swooped down and pressed her lips against his cheek, almost at his temple because he’d moved (like a dickhead) because he hadn’t realised what she was doing at first.

“So what-” Roadie interrupted. “-are you gonna do?”

He threw his hands in the air. “Fuck if I know! I thought she didn’t want that kinda shit! I am! Fuckin’! Confused!”

“So ya gotta strike while the iron’s hot, yeah?”

Junkrat eyed Roadhog with a frown. “An’ how the fuck d’ya reckon I can do that?” He inquired testily. “She’d chop me balls off just fer thinkin’ it an’ y’ _know_ she would.”

Roadhog chuckled deeply.

“Glad someone finds this amusin’.” Junkrat grumbled, lying back down again. At that moment, his comm crackled in his ear.

“How’s the view from the rooftops, everyone?” It was Winston, interrupting, as per usual.

“All’s good.” McCree drawled; Junkrat could see him and Hanzo positioned on a skyscraper ledge on the opposite side of the street.

“All clear.” Came Satya’s cool tone, sending a jolt through him – she was on rooftop duty as well, with Ana.

“Same ‘ere.” Junkrat echoed, figuring it’d be wise to chime in, or Winston would suspect something was up.

“Looks good to me!” Lúcio confirmed. He and Hana were set up not far from the mouth of the museum, so Hana’s MEKA could charge in if there was trouble. The rest of their team was inside the museum, apart from Pharah, who was on a separate skyscraper by herself, occasionally blasting across the skies from building to building, on patrol.

“Affirmative.” Pharah called. “No hostilities detected.”

“Good.” Winston replied. “Everything’s okay so far in here, but keep your eyes open.”

Junkrat tuned out again, reaching for the… well, he didn’t have a clue what it was, but it was small, had meat in it, and tasted pretty bloody good. He stuffed his face with a few of them and then wandered along to a different part of the rooftop, peering over the edge, trying to get his mind off Satya. He needed to _focus_.

There was a something directly beneath him, a huge inflatable omnic being dragged along by people with ropes, and Junkrat tilted his head to the side. It would certainly be hilarious if someone, say, him, just so happened to drop a little bomb from all the way up here. For a moment, he wondered what the giant balloon was filled with – if he dropped a bomb, would the whole thing explode in a magnificent fireball? Probably. With stars in his eyes, Junkrat unhitched a grenade from his chest and held it out over the edge of the roof. Just as he was about to pull the pin and let go, his comm crackled and dinged, letting him know someone had just tuned in to his private channel.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea, sonny Jim?”

 _Ana_.

Junkrat swore under his breath and reluctantly pulled his arm back. “How’d y’see that, y’old bat?”

Ana chuckled heartily for a moment. “I’ve got eyes in the back of my head, Junkrat. I’m a sniper, remember? Also, I had to raise Fareeha.”

He heard Satya then in the background of Ana’s comm, her voice indistinct, but still audible, and a thrill ran through him.

“What did he do?”

“He was going to drop a grenade on that float down there.” Ana replied matter-of-factly, and Junkrat cringed slightly at Satya’s exclamation.

“He _what?”_

“Tell ‘Metra t’untwist her knickers.” He said irritably. “I didn’t drop it.”

“Well, don’t, okay? I can see you through my scope, so don’t even _think_ about it.”

Junkrat frowned across at the building that he knew they were on; the sun was glinting off Ana’s scope, so he waved at her.

She laughed over the comms. “Don’t cause any international incidents, okay? We’re supposed to be keeping watch.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Junkrat ambled back over to Roadhog, who was peering over the side of the building, watching the floats round the corner. “This is pretty fuckin’ borin’.” He announced, and Roadhog grunted.

“Y’d rather we was fightin’ some blokes t’the death?”

Junkrat giggled. “Yeah, prob’ly.” He sank to the ground, stretching out to lounge on the floor with his head propped up on his hand, fingers dancing absently over the rooftop. 

Roadhog chuckled slightly and turned to gaze down at the parade again.

Once the thrill of the parade started to wear off (there were only so many times a float could shoot confetti into the air until it stopped being fun), Junkrat became increasingly bored.

And when Junkrat was bored (and trying to avoid confusing thoughts of Satya because it made his stomach clench to think of her), he started looking for things to do.

Firstly, he snooped over the entire rooftop, looking for something interesting. He found nothing but a bird’s nest, and after scaring them into taking flight, his interest waned, and he started looking for something else to do.

He found that something in the air-conditioning ducts, which had a lot of screws situated about the place. Junkrat promptly set about pulling it to bits, which was made slightly more awkward considering that the air-conditioning was in fact running. He took it as a challenge, and soon had quite the pile of disassembled bits sitting beside him.

When that no longer presented any allure (and the air-conditioner was making an alarming rattling noise), Junkrat went back over to the food, absently grabbing a handful and shoving it into his mouth.

“Oi.”

“Yeah?” He looked around to where Roadhog was still sitting, peering over the edge of the building.

Roadhog pointed over the side, and Junkrat did too, taking a moment before he registered what he was supposed to be looking at; one of the floats appeared to have broken down right at the steps of the museum, and people were milling about, apparently trying to get it started again. Junkrat eyed it curiously – it was actually a really huge float, much bigger than the ones in front of it and behind it. It was a large blocky shape, and absently he wondered how much ammunition he could fit inside it to blow those pretty flowers covering it sky high.

“Whadaya reckon’s goin’ on?” He asked Hog, who shrugged. “Prob’ly broken down.” He continued, tipping his head to the side as he considered. “Maybe it’s too big for the engine. Dumbarses, puttin’ that much weight on a little tiny engine.”

Roadhog grunted in agreement, and then all hell broke loose.

Junkrat’s mouth dropped open as all of a sudden, the floral arrangements burst from the side of the float and flew into the air, gently raining down upon the hordes of black clad terrorists wielding guns that were flooding into the museum.

“Holy fuck!” He exclaimed as gunfire burst from below, and turned to Roadhog. “Hog!”

Roadhog was on his feet, hook in hand, and Junkrat got the message; he dove to his RIPtire and slung it over his back, hooking it in place on his harness.

“How’re we getting down there?” He asked sharply, but Roadhog was already winding back to throw; the hook went sailing through the air, and, Hog’s aim as sharp as ever, firmly anchored itself to the slightly lower building across from them.

The chain secure, Junkrat slung himself onto it and slid down, Roadhog not far behind, the wind whistling through his hair as the chain rattled through his fingers. Just as his arms started to burn with the exertion, the building came rushing up before him and he let go, hitting the rooftop of the skyscraper and rolling to a stop.

Roadhog hit the roof with a thud and immediately turned to yank the chain down, and then he rapidly wound up and threw it again, this time to another building. They repeated this a few times until Junkrat found the bitumen street rushing up towards him, and he let go at exactly the right time to land on his feet. He staggered a bit with the weight of the tyre on his back, but didn’t lose his balance. Roadhog hit the ground a moment later and viciously pulled the chain down, and then they were both running through the panicking crowd towards the museum. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of blue, and Junkrat looked to the side in time to see a hard light ramp descending to the ground, and flashing along at a rate of knots were Ana and Satya. Ana was sitting down, clutching her rifle and wearing a terrified yet elated expression as she sped towards the ground, but Satya was standing, photon projector held along and concentration written on her features. He felt a jolt of an unidentifiable feeling when he saw her. They reached the ground and the slide shattered into fragments, and both women took off towards the museum without further ado, though Satya glanced in his direction with a half-smile curving her lips up. Butterflies exploded in his stomach and Junkrat exchanged a look with Roadhog, then hefted his frag launcher and ran towards the museum.

 

* * *

 

It was bedlam. He was currently on the fourth floor, having fought his way through the chaotic mix of fleeing, panicking museum patrons and Talon agents, and was attempting to head in the general direction of the Doomfist gauntlet, for 76 had yelled over the comms for backup not five minutes ago. He’d lost Roadhog too, too caught up in the fight to realise Roadie had gone in the opposite direction he had in the lobby. By the time they’d realised it, Junkrat had already gone up two flights of stairs, hot in pursuit of a group of Talon bastards.

“What a lovely day!” He crowed, firing grenades in the general direction of a Talon woman, who dove out of the way, hefted her gun, and fired at him. Junkrat threw himself behind the nearest exhibit, which was a tall marble pedestal holding an ancient looking vase within a glass case. A shot fired by the women found its mark and shattered the vase, and Junkrat shook shards of glass and ancient porcelain out of his hair as he pulled the pin from a grenade with his teeth and chucked it over his shoulder, waiting for the explosion that rocked the hallway. Peering cautiously out from behind the pedestal, he grinned as he took in the motionless body of the Talon woman lying beneath the chunks of wall that had come down on her in the blast. He sauntered past her, realised she was still breathing, shallow breaths of pain hissing through clenched teeth, and dropped another grenade to put her out of her misery. Junkrat rounded the corner in the nick of time to avoid the second explosion, then lifted his frag launcher as he picked his way cautiously down the corridor. Part of him wanted to go charging down the hall, but another, more sensible part told him to be smart – Hog wasn’t with him, and he was up against trained terrorists, rather than gormless cops or shifty Junkers.

The hallway was very quiet, and if he wanted to be cliché, Junkrat would have said it was _too_ quiet. Frag launcher in one hand and grenade primed and ready in the other, he crept down the corridor, cringing slightly every time his peg leg clunked on the polished floor. Abruptly, he heard screams coming from an exhibit room to his left, and he cautiously peered around the doorjamb to see a group of three Talon agents bailing up a group of Numbani citizens, including children, who cowered against their parents, crying fearfully. Junkrat sighed to himself for a moment, then remembered that Satya had been impressed with him the last time he ‘saved’ civilians, and so he crept through the door and aimed his frag launcher squarely at the leader of the little Talon group.

“G’day, mates.” He grinned, and the agents stiffened. “How ‘bout y’go puttin’ those guns down?” One by one, they reluctantly lowered their weapons, and turned slowly, hands up.

Once Junkrat had them up against the far wall, their weapons in a pile at his feet, he turned to the Numbani families still hiding behind the exhibits.

“Y’lot better get goin’.” He called, hoping that they spoke English. “Fire escape’s just down the hall. Should getcha down t’the street.”

One tall woman with her hair wrapped in a bright turban looking thing turned to the others and spoke urgently, loudly. His suspicions that she was translating his words were confirmed when she smiled broadly and thanked him in accented English. She then stood, and cautiously picked her way to the door, the others behind her, and then Junkrat heard them making a dash for the fire escape. Now free of the judging eyes of civilians, Junkrat tugged a grenade from his vest, retreated a few steps, pulled the pin and chucked it at the Talon group in the same moment as he dove for the door. He hit the ground and the explosion shook the floor, and he peered back in cautiously, taking in the various bits scattered across the room and dripping from the ceiling; no survivors. He allowed himself a grin and continued along the corridor, still attempting to get to the Doomfist exhibit.

His commlink crackled. “Rat.” It was Roadhog, and Junkrat pressed his free hand to his ear as he loped past a pile of bodies, some Talon, some civilian.

“Yeah mate?”

“Where’ve y’gone?”

“Fourth floor. ‘M on me way t’the Doomfist exhibit.”

He heard a grunt of exertion through the comms, and then the sound of Roadhog punching someone. “Right. Meetcha there.”

“Cheerio.” Junkrat let his hand drop from the comms and came to the stairs – if he remembered correctly, the Doomfist gauntlet was on the second floor. He set off down the stairs, and then got bailed up by two Talon agents halfway down it. A concussion mine sent them both flying into the ceiling, and Junkrat ran beneath them before they fell down. At the base of the stairs on the second floor, he encountered Zenyatta, who was driving a mob of Talon bastards down the corridor, his orbs flashing round and round his head, and occasionally snapping out to go after one of the terrorists.

Junkrat crept behind the omnic so he wouldn’t have to talk to him, and rushed off down the other corridor, where he pulled up in a hurry, because Satya’s turrets were active all along the hallway, absolutely frying four miserable Talon fucks, whose agonised screams were echoing down the hall. He eyed the turrets nervously and the peered over his shoulder… here was not a good place to be pinned down, if anyone should round that corner.

At that moment, he remembered his comms. Pressing a hand to his ear, Junkrat made a face at the now dead corpses lying in the hallway as the turrets shut off, now with nothing to zap. You couldn’t pay him to step in there.

Well, there was only one thing to do.

“Oi, Satya.” He muttered urgently, tapping into her private channel and hoping she wasn’t already talking to someone. Nerves swirled in his belly and he couldn’t quite believe he was _talking_ to her. “Y’there?”

“Jamison. What’s the matter?” Came the reply, and he could hear the sound of breaking objects and a scream in the background.

“Yer turrets.” He said hurriedly. “Will they zap me? I can’t get through.”

“Where are you?” Came the business-like reply, over the sound of something crashing to the ground.

“Second floor. Tryin’ t’get t’the Doomfist joint.”

“I’m on the second floor too!” Her words came out as a cross between an exclamation and a grunt as the sound that came over the comms sounded very much like someone had just hit her. “The Zimbabwe exhibit over on the west side. Some backup would be very much appreciated.” She added, voice high pitched as a scream nearly blocked her out.

“I’ll be there in a tic.” Junkrat confirmed, then turned and ran back the way he’d come. The closer he got to the Zimbabwe exhibit, which was one dedicated to the country during the 19th century, the more Talon agents there were, but his grenades cleared his path, even if they did make the ceiling shake alarmingly.

He reached the Zimbabwe room and rushed in through the doorway to see a large group of terrorists pinning Satya to the far wall, near the giant plate glass windows. She had a shield held in front of her and was using her photon projector to drain the energy of them, but it was slow going. Junkrat saw what needed to be done at once.

He jammed his fingers into his mouth and let out an ear-splitting whistle. “OI MATES!” He yelled, and when he had their attention, dived behind an exhibit as they began firing. A moment later and a swathe of blue surrounded his form, and so Junkrat grinned at his shield and popped his head up. Bullets immediately trained on his head, and Satya’s shield pulsed and thickened, and he grinned, hoping to draw them away from her so he could blow the lot of them to buggery with the grenades in his hands.

“Not workin’, is it mate?” He said cheerily to the closest agent, who let out a bellow of anger and fired point blank at Junkrat’s skull. The bullet impacted on his forehead and Junkrat _felt_ it hit, but it didn’t penetrate the skin, though it did knock him backwards from the force of impact. It was a highly unnerving sensation.

The Talon agents were edging closer, and Junkrat taunted them, judging the distance with impatience. _That’s it mates… just a bit closer… c’mon now… that’s it…_

A smile of inordinate glee spread across his features when the Talon fucks reached the golden zone, but just as he pulled back his arm to pull the pin and throw the grenade, a wall of bright blue light hemmed them in on three sides, and before the terrorists could do more than look surprised, Satya swept her arms to the side and the wall moved, smashing into the Talon agents and propelling them straight through the giant window with a monstrous crashing of broken glass and high pitched screams.

Junkrat blinked at the empty window where a second before his target had been, and slowly lowered the grenade. He affected his best injured look as he turned to Satya and the shield around winked out.

“I was gonna make ‘em go explodey.” He complained, but Satya ignored him in favour of staring, looking rather shell-shocked, directly at him. Junkrat straightened up and met her gaze, then gave her a tentative grin. “But the window works too, I guess.”

She crossed the room towards him then. “Are you – alright?” She gasped out, voice rather breathless, and then once more, she grabbed his harness and yanked him down to her height. Junkrat nearly swallowed his tongue as he watched her, entirely forgetting how to speak when she laid her hands on his face, tugging his head down further and parting his hair with her fingers to frown anxiously at his scalp. “They _shot_ you-” Satya pulled back to give him a very severe look. “-I hope you realise my shields are not infallible at such close range. They _can_ fail, and you’re very lucky I was able to reinforce it in time.”

Junkrat still couldn’t find any words as Satya tilted his head this way and that, running her fingers across his skin as she searched for any wounds. They were very close, and that was really all that he was able to register as she gazed intently at him. He could see everything – the way her golden eyes searched his with real concern in their depths, the way her lips parted in evident concentration. Her fingers lingered on his jaw, flesh and metal warm against his skin as her hands stilled. All he could think of was her kissing his cheek, and his hands balled into fists at his side, trying to resist the impulse to lean in.

He watched Satya take a deep breath and step back, dropping her hands to her side, and noticed one of them slide to the belt she still wore around her waist, to the pouch she’d had his patch in. Junkrat took a fortifying breath of his own and straightened up.

“I am glad you are unharmed.” She said rather stiffly, turning away sightly. “You’ll have to see Angela later, of course, but for now we ought to keep going. There are still Talon agents in the building.”

“I – I uh, I’ve been tryin’ t’get t’the Doomfist thingo.” Junkrat managed, then attempted to compose himself. “Hoggie’s there waitin’ fer me. There’s turrets in the way, but.”

Satya’s lips curved just slightly. “Well then. Let’s go. We still have plenty to do.”

Junkrat allowed himself a small grin as they both headed towards the exit – his insides were in turmoil and he didn’t know what to think, but it seemed that for now they had each other’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> k so I know there's Developments going down rn with Blizzard doing all sorts of sneaky Numbani stuff and its shitting me right off bc I've had my Numbani stuff written for months and if Blizzard does A Thing that contradicts/makes what i've written illogical I'm gonna be very Not Happy bc I've been trying to keep this as close to the lore as possible! 
> 
> also
> 
> u thought jamie couldn't possibly be confused as to what satya feels now? u thought wrong. there is nothing this boy can't be confused about. he'll be waking up next to her in the morning after they've been married for sixty three years still thinking 'what is Happening'


	42. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon gets their hands on the Doomfist gauntlet.

Satya took a deep breath and tried to calm the nerves humming in her belly. She attempted to get her mind of things, but she couldn’t seem to rid herself of the image of Junkrat being shot in the head. He was unharmed, of course, but that didn’t make it any less horrifying.

She snuck him a look as they picked their way back through the now seemingly abandoned hallway, heading back towards the Doomfist exhibit. They reached the corridor where her turrets were placed, and Satya disabled them long enough to allow them through. She took a moment to put them back online, and it turned out to be a very fortunate thing they’d hesitated, because Junkrat, who’d gone to peer around the corner and check it was clear, flung himself back against the wall.

Satya stared anxiously. “What is it?” She hissed, drawing nearer. “What’s wrong?”

Junkrat neglected to answer in favour of tugging a grenade from his harness; he pulled the pin then twisted his body in a clean, strong motion to hurl the bomb around the corner. There was a panicked scream and an explosion, and Satya clapped her hands over her ears and winced. She attempted to adjust the level of muffling her visor provided as it covered her ears, and only marginally succeeded. The look on Junkrat’s face was ecstatic as he peered round the corner. “All clear.” He hissed. “C’mon.”

Satya held her photon projector at the ready as she followed Junkrat down the hall, watching his RIPtire bouncing on his back as he moved. She grimaced at it; it really must be enormously heavy, but he didn’t seem to mind it. He must be must stronger than expected, given the lankiness of his frame. She focused on the RIPtire because if she didn’t, she’d have to pay attention to the mess caused by his grenades. The human body did not look especially pleasant after a run in with Junkrat, and it made her feel very queasy to think about it for too long, particularly when she felt something soft underfoot.

At that moment, Morrison crackled over the comms, and as Junkrat turned too, she realised Morrison was on the public channel.

“Attention all agents! Our defences have been breached.” His voice was hoarse and furious. “They’ve got the gauntlet. If there’s anyone near the lobby, try to head them off. We’re in pursuit.”

“ _Christ_.” Junkrat scowled and turned back the way they’d come. “C’mon, stairs are this way.”

“What are we going to do?” Satya gasped out as they broke into a run back down the corridor.

“I dunno!” Junkrat shot her a sideways glance as he ran, RIPtire bouncing more than ever. “Can ya block off the exits, maybe?”

“Perfect!”

They tore down a flight of stairs and reached the balcony at the top of the landing; one more flight would take them to the lobby and directly under fire from the Talon agents escorting the Doomfist gauntlet. That explained why the halls were so empty; those they’d been fighting must have gotten the call to head to the Doomfist gauntlet in a bid to get it out of the museum. Standing on the landing gave them a hint of cover, and Satya ducked behind a large pedestal without registering what exhibit it held, and extended her arms. She wove the wireframe of a thick wall and splayed her hands, and blue light poured from her fingers to create a giant wall that extended in a circle around the edge of the lobby to cover the doors and stairs out of the museum, cutting those who carried the gauntlet off from those who’d already gone out the door to engage the police at the base of the steps. It was easy – shields and turrets and teleporters were one thing, but a wall? That was architecture, and that was what she’d been trained to do.

Howls of confusion and anger reached her, and Satya stayed behind the pedestal as she completed crafting, turning the blue wireframe to impenetrable hard light, shiny and imposing under the dim lights. Having covered the floor to ceiling glass doors and windows, it was suddenly a lot darker in the museum, and Satya focused intently as she tried to figure out what the Talon agents were doing next.

She pressed her fingers to her ear. “Morrison.” She hissed. “I’ve blocked the exits and trapped the gauntlet in the lobby. I estimate there’s perhaps thirty agents in there with it. Are you nearby?”

Morrison sounded relieved. “We’re right outside, but the door won’t open. I presume that’s you?”

“Yes, but they’ll try and get through if I lower the wall. I can give you a teleporter, take them by surprise. You’ll need a shield of some kind – I’ve no doubt when I open it you’ll be under fire.”

“Not to worry!” Reinhardt boomed in her ear, making her wince. “My shield is at the ready.”

“Very well. I will open the path.” Satya closed her eyes and concentrated, then placed a teleporter in the most sheltered area of the lobby. She couldn’t see the hallway where Morrison and the others were, but she’d been through there, and so knew where to place it. She only hoped she wasn’t going to drop it on someone’s head.

She concentrated harder than ever, and formed the teleporter. She smiled a sigh of relief when cheers came over the comms and let her know that she’d successfully placed it.

“Teleporter online.” She announced, and Morrison replied to ready themselves; the charge was about to begin.

“Wait.”

Everyone hesitated as Junkrat continued, and Satya peered over her shoulder at him, wondering what he was doing.

“I got a clear shot here.” He said, voice serious. “Is Pharah there? If she came zippin’ through the teleporter an’ nabbed the gauntlet, I could blow ‘em all t’buggery in one hit. Still got me RIPtire.”

Morrison considered for a moment as the din increased; the trapped Talon agents were now firing at the hard light encircling them, trying to break through.

“I can do that.” Pharah said, and Satya watched as Junkrat’s grin widened. He slowly reached up and unhitched the massive tyre bomb from his back, clearly getting ready to detonate it. “If I can take them by surprise… what’s the gauntlet’s location?”

“It’s directly in the centre of them, towards the centre front door.” Satya reported. “They have it in a case now, a dark grey one. The man holding it is unarmed but he has a very tight circle of guards.”

“Symmetra, you have visuals?” Winston asked, alarm in his tone. “You’re not in the lobby _with_ them, are you?”

“Junkrat and I are on the landing.” She replied quietly. “I can see over the balcony to direct Pharah, and I can provide her with shielding.”

“All right then, let’s do it.” Morrison’s gruff tone sounded pleased with the plan. “Good luck, Fareeha. Are you ready, Junkrat?”

“Mate, I was ready yesterday.”

A glance at Junkrat told her this was true; he was hunched over the RIPtire, pull cord in one hand, detonator switch in the other. Satya lifted her hands and her photon projector and tapped back into the hard light in the hall, changing the form of it to create a doorway for the tyre to travel down the stairs. The Talon agents in the hall went quiet, staring suspiciously, and a few started for the exit, when she heard a man bark at them to stay put; it was _obviously_ a trap.

“I’m going!” Pharah announced, and then the teleporter in the corner pulsed to life and the Raptora suit rocketed into the air. The Talon agents immediately opened fire, but Satya had been waiting for her and hit Pharah with her most powerful shields, giving her extra protection as she hurtled directly into the centre of the terrorists. A second later and she came zooming overhead and down the hall to safety, the case clutched in her hands; the whole thing had barely lasted a few seconds, and Junkrat’s plan had _worked_.

At the thought, Satya turned just in time to see him pull the cord and the RIPtire roared to life, so loud she clapped her hands over her ears. The vicious spikes dug deeply into the floor as it careened down the stairs, and Junkrat was watching, body tense and thumb poised to detonate, and the focus on his face was incredible. The noise was something else entirely; she’d never been so close to the tyre when he’d used it before, and every impact of the spikes digging into the ground throbbed through her body. Satya forgot where she was in favour of staring, watching as the massive tyre roared towards the Talon agents, who were attempting to scatter, and then Junkrat hit the detonator.

Satya clamped her eyes shut but not in time to blot out the blast of intense heat and fire that blossomed like a flower from the centre of the Talon agents, and then a strong arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her backwards. Satya kept her hands braced over her ears as the shockwave hit, the sound of the explosion utterly deafening as it washed over her. She barely noticed that Junkrat had moved them, dragging her across the landing and round the corner, out of danger. His arm was still around her waist, holding her tightly to him, and Satya had her face buried in his chest, in between his grenades, in a futile attempt to escape the sound of the explosion.

The sound faded away slower than she’d been expecting, and Satya let her hands lift from her head gingerly, her ears ringing despite the double protection of her visor and her hands. Junkrat was still holding her, but he had his back to the wall, peering around the corner in an evident attempt to see what had happened, and Satya gazed with horrified eyes at the place where she’d been standing only a few seconds before; it was scarred with smoking shrapnel, and if he hadn’t grabbed her, she could have been seriously injured before she’d had a chance to throw up a shield.

Satya moved, pushing her shoulders back slightly, and the motion caught Junkrat’s attention. He looked down at her, a jubilant expression on his face, and as he lifted his hand to his ear, Satya realised she too could hear Morrison attempting to get their attention.

“Pharah? Junkrat? Symmetra? Is anyone hurt? The objective! Is the gauntlet secure?”

“Objective secured.” Pharah confirmed. “I have the gauntlet. Junkrat’s plan worked.”

Junkrat spoke then. “Just had me a little look-see. I reckon there’s no survivors.” He sounded _delighted_ about that fact.

“Good.” Morrison sounded tired. “All right, everyone. We’ll do a sweep of the museum and then rendezvous back in our barracks. We’ll hand things over to the Numbani authorities then; we’ve got to get the gauntlet back to safety. Pharah, get somewhere safe and don’t let that thing out of your sight.”

“Affirmative.” Pharah replied.

Satya let her hand drop to Junkrat’s chest and even as she attempted to slow her breathing and her heartbeat, her sheer relief got the better of her.

“It worked!”

“Y’don’t have t’sound so surprised.” Junkrat snickered, his grin widening.

Satya laughed despite herself. “I’m sorry. It’s just… well, it’s been a tense few hours.”

Junkrat nodded in agreement. “It sure has.” A glitter filled his eyes and his grin widened, like he couldn’t contain the words that burst forth. “Y’saw it roight? It was fuckin’ _amazin’_.” He wiped a pretend tear from his eye. “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

“It was very impressive.” Satya allowed. “Though having my ears almost blown off detracts from it somewhat.”

Junkrat laughed, his body twitching beneath her touch as his shoulders hunched from mirth, and Satya realised his arm was still around her waist. She wondered who, exactly, was going to make the first move to step back.

She’d barely finished the thought when it appeared that Junkrat had had the same idea, his laughter fading abruptly as he paused to meet her gaze, molten eyes intense.

For a long second, neither of them moved, and then Satya realised he was leaning in. Junkrat paused, the expression on his face questioning, and Satya forgot to tell herself she wasn’t supposed to be indulging this side of herself as she raised her face to his, her eyes slipping half closed. A soft pressure at her side made her lips part to release a slight gasp as his metal fingers brushed over her bare thigh just beneath the edge of her skirt. Her fingers curled into his harness in expectation as her breathing sped up in anticipation, and just as she felt his warm breath against her skin and his nose skim over hers and then the slightest brush of pressure over her top lip, her commlink beeped.

Satya jumped and pulled back, and in the second it took her to reflexively lift her hand to her ear, reason came flooding back and she realised several things in rapid succession. One – she was standing much, _much_ too close to Junkrat. Two – Winston was speaking in her ear. Three – Junkrat had nearly kissed her. Four – _she’d nearly kissed him back._

“Winston.” Satya gasped, then fought to control her breathing and her voice as she pushed backwards. Junkrat wore an expression of sheer disappointment as he dropped his arms and let her scuttle backwards, the cool air of the museum rushing in to fill the vacuum left by the warmth of his body. Satya folded her free arm across her chest and turned away, trying to escape from the heat in his eyes. “What is it?”

“Symmetra – how far are you from the lobby? Can you dismantle the hard light you put up? We need to get in.”

Satya nodded despite the fact Winston couldn’t see her, and fought to regain control of herself. “Yes, of course. I’m not far. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Thanks. See you there.”

Winston left the channel, and Satya slowly let her hand drop, teeth sinking deeply into her lip for a moment as she seriously considered fleeing. She steeled her courage and made herself turn. Junkrat was still watching her, and the sheer frustration written on his features was making her feel alarmingly wobbly. Satya didn’t like the sensation at all.

“I have to go.” She said quickly, avoiding his gaze as best she could. “Winston wants me.” She paused, unsure of what to say. “I – goodbye.” Satya turned without waiting for his reply and hurried away, rushing down the stairs and through the gap she’d made for Junkrat’s RIPtire.

It was not a pretty sight. The explosion had damaged much of the surrounding infrastructure, including her hard light walls, and the lights had blown out, meaning that it was very dark. Satya was glad of this, for it meant that she couldn’t properly make out the… bits… of the Talon agents scattered about. She disliked killing, and though she hadn’t done this, it didn’t make it any easier to walk over the rubble, occasionally feeling something soft and wet underfoot. It was, in a word, _horrifying._ Occasionally she would make out recognisable parts and have to pause, hand on her stomach, to regain her composure and make sure she didn’t throw up. She’d seen the aftermath of explosions before, of course, but they had been no better. She wanted to get out of there _fast_.

Once properly in the room and standing atop a mostly blood free pile of rubble, Satya took a moment, once out of Junkrat’s line of sight, to press her hands to her cheeks in an attempt to cool them, and then she unhitched her photon projector from her hip and began to dismantle the hard light wall after checking to verify that there were in fact, no survivors who would jump out at her. It was calm, methodical work, something that helped distracted her both from Junkrat and from the rising stench of death that she imagined was all around her. She concentrated as hard as she could on her hard light, and it almost worked – she started to forget.

Almost.

She unblocked three of the doors and swung one open to find Ana and Reinhardt waiting there with Winston.

“Hello.” Ana said cheerfully. “Are you all right? Seen anything amiss?”

And that, of course, brought the memory of Junkrat’s face, far too close to comfort, flooding to the forefront of her mind. Satya was sure her cheeks were reddening, but she shook her head and went back to dismantling the rest of the wall. The others didn’t speak to her a great deal as they combed through the wreckage, looking for survivors, apparently because she looked so immersed in her work, and they didn’t want to distract her. Satya was greatly relieved at this, and lingered perhaps a bit longer than necessary over her work, for it gave her a chance to think.

She’d very nearly kissed Junkrat.

Clearly, she was out of control. _He_ was out of control. He’d managed to worm his way past every single defence she had and _kissed_ her.

No. No, no, no. Absolutely not. That hadn’t been a kiss. Not really. Not properly. He’d barely touched her. Winston had saved her from making a mistake. Satya frowned and shook herself slightly, before firmly telling herself again. Yes, it was definitely a mistake. Luckily, a mistake that had only _almost_ occurred.

Clearly, she needed to examine things impartially. She needed to step back, away from any (foolish) partiality she held for him, and decide exactly what she needed to do. Yes, that was it. Satya nodded decisively over the beam from her photon projector. She would look at things rationally. She would examine every choice, every avenue that led to the events of barely half an hour ago.

Another half hour passed, and Satya had a few options lined up. The first? Junkrat must be avoided at all costs. She would avoid socialising with him, avoid being in the workshop if he was the only other person in there, and generally stay away from him. That was one way, the only way really, to avoid mistakes similar to the one she’d nearly made today. Satya nodded to herself, pleased. Yes, it was all quite simple. Avoidance was the cure.

All the same, she couldn’t help feel a little curious. He’d nearly kissed her. What would it have been like if he had? Satya shook herself like a rumpled cat at the thought. That was an extremely dangerous train of thought. After all, she didn’t _want_ to know what it would be like. Her teeth worried her lower lip for a moment. Actually… she kind of… did.

“Oh my Gods.” She muttered ferociously in Telugu. “What am I thinking?”

Okay, so maybe she had a certain amount of curiosity for him. Satya tossed her hair and decided that it was only natural that her thoughts were this way inclined – he’d nearly kissed her and so it was logical that she was still going to be focused on the event. She nodded decisively. It meant nothing. Nothing whatsoever.

There was, however, a small flaw in the total avoidance plan.

Junkrat’s reading lessons.

Satya stopped what she was doing, photon projector held limply in her hand as she stared at the wall, teeth digging in hard to her lower lip. What was she going to do there? One instinctive thought was to end them immediately, but she disregarded it in the same breath. While she was no longer sure if she could trust herself in such intimate, close quarters with him, she’d already stopped the lessons once before, and Junkrat… how could she take that away again? He was improving every day, and… Satya didn’t think she could be so cruel. Not again.

So what to do? She resumed dissolving the wall of hard light, stepping delicately over what was left of a body in order to do so, attempting to avoid looking too much as she did. Perhaps… perhaps total avoidance wasn’t necessary. It was not the right option, so she looked to the next one on the list. After all, Junkrat would surely think there was something wrong with her if she pulled back again. She was a sensible, rational creature. There was no reason to suspect she’d allow herself to make the same mistake twice. Satya nodded, pleased with herself. Of course, she’d always been a rational, sensible person, hadn’t she?

And yet, she’d still almost kissed him back.

At that moment, she heard the distinctive clanking of Junkrat’s prosthetic on the ground, and her whole body snapped to attention. Satya refused to turn around, utterly refused to look as the others moved to great him.

“Junkrat!” That was Reinhardt's voice. “Well done! You ended ze fight much faster than we’d been expecting.”

Junkrat voice, pleased and exceptionally self-satisfied, washed over her. “Cheers, mate.”

“Those little tyre bombs of yours are pretty handy, as it turns out.” That was Ana speaking now, and Satya could almost hear the exaggerated smirk in her voice. She took a deep breath and focused harder on the hard light, and then attempted to tune back into the conversations going on through the commlinks, as everyone else scouted the museum, reporting rogue Talon agents, subdued agents, injuries, trapped civilians, and casualties.

It didn’t work.

Junkrat’s voice, mock offended and yet still amused as he responded to Ana, made Satya tense all over again. _“Little?”_

Satya scowled. First, he got himself shot in the head, and if her shields were any less robust, he’d surely be dead. Second, she’d been so concerned for him post-headshot that she’d examined his face herself. She closed her eyes briefly. The expression on his face… it didn’t take a genius to work out that he liked it when she touched him. It didn’t even take a second, smarter genius to work out that… _she_ liked it when she touched him, as kissing his cheek yesterday demonstrated quite remarkably well.

A frustrated noise left her lips and Satya froze, refusing to turn around and face anyone else. She felt like, as impossible as it would be for them to know, that they’d know somehow. They’d all take one look at her face and nod sagely, and behind her back they’d whisper about how she’d nearly kissed Junkrat.

That was it. That was her limit. She had to get out of this room and away from the sound of Junkrat’s voice so she could think properly. Satya spun decisively on her heel and strode towards the door, hoping to get there before anyone could ask her where she was going. It didn’t help matters when, apparently no longer able to control her own body, Satya’s gaze slid towards Junkrat – and he was watching her, an undecipherable expression on his face.

Satya jerked her head around and stepped up her pace, only relaxing once she was down the corridor and away from prying eyes. There, she decided to join the rest of the team; scouting the building and looking for survivors, both Talon and civilian. It was easy enough; the scores of bodies and rubble littering the floor were hard to miss, and a few times she located a small pocket of civilians hiding amongst the exhibits and escorted them to the nearest fire escape.

Several hours later, she, like everyone, received word from Winston that they were all clear to return to their barracks for debriefing. It was a relief – after briefing there was the chance of going along to the showers and decompressing in the warm water for a while. It sounded delightful, and the chance to think without the mission getting in the road would be even better, so she hurried perhaps just a touch more than was necessary.

Before Winston was permitted to begin debriefing, Mercy insisted on checking everyone for injuries. Satya feigned exhaustion as a reason for why she wasn’t talking much, and Mercy passed over her with little more than an order to get a good night’s sleep. Some of the others required more intensive work – McCree had lost his hat and was sitting on his bed, desolate, until Hana appeared with it in hand. She’d found it in a corridor, and McCree was so overjoyed to have it back he barely noticed that Mercy was mending the large gash in his arm. Lúcio had been knocked off his skates and down a flight of stairs, and while luckily had avoided any serious injury, was fairly covered in bruises, which Mercy took her time in removing with her staff. All injuries mended, Winston was finally able to begin.

“Right, well, I think we all know by now that the mission went belly up. There weren’t supposed to be Talon agents operating in the area, so it looks like they made a special exception just for us.” He managed a tired laugh and continued. “The gauntlet was captured, but fortunately we captured it back. What’s interesting is that this time, they sent a whole battalion of agents but didn’t send Widowmaker or Reaper, like they did last time.”

Winston exchanged a look with Morrison. “Jack and I have been thinking; this might have been a serious attempt to take the gauntlet coming from a different angle, seeing as Widowmaker and Reaper didn’t succeed the last time. They might have thought they’d have better luck with sheer numbers. However, it may have been a diversion. We have the whole team focused on the gauntlet… who knows what else they might have been doing?”

There was some muttering, but Winston moved on. “However, as Junkrat’s idea worked and the gauntlet was recovered with a minimum of fuss, for lack of a better word, we can say that the mission has been a success. Of course, it, uh, put a bit of a damper on Unity Day, but I believe the Numbani authorities are handling things. We’re all tired, so we’ll defer leaving till the morning, four am sharp. We’ll debrief properly once we’re back at the base.”

Satya let out a slow, measured breath. Four o’clock in the morning – it was absurdly early but it made sense. It’d get them out of Numbani and get the gauntlet back to safety. The gauntlet was currently locked in a new case, the Talon one having been discarded, and was chained beneath Morrison’s bed.

Given the all clear to go to sleep, everyone stood up and went to their respective beds. Satya unzipped her overnight bag and sought out her pyjamas, her robe, and her toiletry bag, and then she headed to the bathrooms. The museum guard’s facilities were divided into separate men’s and women’s bathrooms, which pleased her, for it meant even less chance of running into Junkrat. Not that she thought he’d willingly take a shower, anyway. Satya stifled a sigh; how could she even be entertaining the thought of kissing such a man?

She found a free stall and slipped in, sliding the curtain closed. She could hear the others chatting animatedly about the events of the day, but didn’t join in. It was catching up to her, the exertion of the day, and her muscles were heavy. She felt tired and lethargic as she stripped out of her filthy clothes and paused to frown at the fact that she had so much grime on her. She’d noticed it, of course, but had tried to ignore it as best she could in the face of more pressing matters.

Satya put her dirty clothes inside a bag so she wouldn’t have to touch them once clean, and set about crafting a shield for her arm. Permanently attached to the recipient’s arm, how that recipient would maintain their basic hygiene with an only partially water resistant prosthetic had once been an issue for Vishkar, but it had been solved once someone figured out that the hard light shields could be manipulated and wrapped around the limb only, providing an air-tight waterproof layer that enabled the wearer to submerge themselves in water without fear of damaging their prosthesis. Satya crafted the shield and wrapped it along her arm, watching the way the blue light glimmered then faded to transparent over the white plates of her prosthetic, and stepped under the showerhead. It squeaked when she turned it on, but the water that came out was blissfully hot, and she sighed sightly as she felt some of her tension melt away.

Satya grabbed her soap and shampoo and began to methodically wash herself, the feel of the familiar routine calming her further still. As she lathered and scrubbed, she watched dirt and blood and dust swirl around her feet and down the drain, and she felt a vicious sense of pleasure in having clean skin once more.

She considered things again. She was a Vishkar operative. More than that, she was one of their most highly distinguished architechs. Her position within the company was envied by more than one person – she was renowned, a celebrated architech who was even in the eye of the general public – Satya thought of past magazine interviews and articles with a grimace. She had an image. A reputation she had to uphold. Perhaps… in a different sort of life, she might consider it. She liked Junkrat. She did. That much, she could admit to herself now. She’d even been willingly flirting with him, and that was pleasurable and she enjoyed it, but the fact of the matter was, no matter how she looked at it, she couldn’t allow it to go any further. So long as she was with Vishkar, Junkrat could have no place in her life.

Her face cleansed and her hair washed, Satya took a few minutes to simply stand beneath the hot water. She’d more or less come to a decision while in the shower. She couldn’t ignore Junkrat, nor could she completely avoid him. It was a childish, cowardly move, and yet, she couldn’t allow _it_ – whatever this afternoon had been – to continue. Therefore, she needed a compromise.

Never letting the events of this afternoon pass her lips ever in her life sounded good.

She knew Junkrat took a great deal of his cues from her; therefore, if she paid the incident no mind, hopefully, he would ignore it too, and things could go on, slightly awkward but still normal.

Satya sighed and stepped unwillingly out of the deliciously hot shower. She dried herself slowly and methodically and towel dried her hair, then moisturised and stepped into her pyjamas. She changed from her shower shoes into a pair of slippers, and having wrapped her robe around her form, she took her things and headed back to the barracks.

She’d made her decision. Now she just had to stick to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jamie's internal monologue - @winston square up bitch


	43. Contemplation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat is feeling Conflicted.

The bed was comfortable and he was warm, but that wasn’t what was occupying his mind. Junkrat peered over the edge of the doona he held tucked beneath his chin and tried to make it look casual.

He was trying very hard not to stare.

He was probably definitely staring.

Satya was not making this easy. He… she… he was fairly sure she’d almost kissed him back. Or rather, he’d nearly kissed her, and she… _hadn’t_ pushed him away in disgust.

What in the fuck had he been thinking!?

Junkrat was pretty sure he knew – he hadn’t. It had just kind of… happened. He’d been elated over the success of his RIPtire and then… and then… he’d just kind of… noticed her. More than usual, anyway. When he’d grabbed her initially, it was because Satya didn’t know the blast range of his RIPtire and he’d known she’d get hit by shrapnel or worse if she stayed where she was. And Satya hadn’t liked the sound, if the way she’d had her hands clamped over her ears told him anything. She’d kind of… buried her face in his chest, as if hiding from the explosion, and he’d been split between the elation of his bomb and the feeling of having Satya so close.

But she hadn’t moved away, like a large part of him had expected. She’d stayed put, staring up at him and her _eyes_ … Junkrat closed his own for a moment, remembering. She was utterly mesmerising. He hadn’t meant to, but he had leaned down. And Satya had responded. He wasn’t an idiot. He mightn’t have a huge amount of experience with kissing, but he knew a response when he saw one. She had definitely been going to kiss him back, and he’d been so close, and then….

Winston.

Junkrat swivelled slightly in bed, his gaze finding the gorilla as he typed something on a laptop, and narrowed his eyes. He had _interrupted_ , and made Satya leave. _The piece of shit._

He might actually have kissed her if it wasn’t for that interfering fuckin’ monkey!

Junkrat grumbled under his breath for a moment, then turned back to Satya. As much as he’d like to, picking a fight with Winston was a dumb idea. People would only ask questions and then Satya would probably kill him herself. Also, Winston was a very large monkey and could probably do some damage. He bit his lip as he watched Satya furtively. She’d been one of the first to enter the showers, which had been a _fantastic_ mental picture but not at all a safe one to entertain in public, and now she was sitting on her bed combing out her hair after finishing polishing the glistening white metal plates of her prosthetic, the same robe of charcoal silk he’d seen before cinched tightly around her waist. The hem of that robe was short enough to reveal more of her thighs than was helpful, in his opinion.

She hadn’t looked at him again.

Just once… when she’d left the lobby, and her gaze had flashed to his… she’d looked very uncertain, but now she looked perfectly normal and at ease, albeit quiet and thoughtful, and the only thing he could think of was that she was going to pull away and stop talking to him again.

Junkrat wanted to kick his own arse. What a fuck up – what in the world had made him take a chance and try to _kiss_ her, for fucks sake? He really was an idiot.

He let out a frustrated sigh and sank back in bed, closing his eyes tightly. He hadn’t told Roadie yet, but he was planning on it. He needed advice. What in the fuck was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to act around her? Christ, he’d thought he’d had it bad since Satya had kissed his cheek. Junkrat’s eyes popped open. “Fuck.” He whispered, because he’d just figured out what had made him grow balls big enough to attempt kissing her.

But wait. Okay. There was some fishy shit going on, because the general impression he got from her was that she didn’t want anything like that, but then Satya would do or say something (kissing his cheek was the perfect example) that made him think that maybe she did. It was very confusing.

He decided it would be best to avoid mentioning it to her. He’d let Satya bring it up if she wanted (and he really really hoped she would), but he wasn’t going to mention it. Besides… it had already almost happened once. There was nothing to say it wouldn’t happen again.

With that cheerful thought at the forefront of his mind, Junkrat attempted to sleep.

 

* * *

 

They’d left for Numbani at chook fart, and they left Numbani at chook fart. Junkrat was getting kind of sick of these stupidly early mornings. The fact that he’d had very little sleep wasn’t exactly helping matters either. Also, Satya.

76 was an arsehole and had yanked open everyone’s curtains at wake up time, letting light pour in and adding his voice to the alarms.

Junkrat, always a light sleeper, had shot upright in bed at this rude awakening with a grenade in his hand, but upon realising what was going on, had reluctantly put the bomb down while resentfully eyeing 76 as he continued opening curtains, continuing down the other row and yanking Satya’s curtain aside as he went. The combined sound of alarms in the background had made him want to blow them all up, and then Junkrat hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d meant to look away, truly, but when Satya had scrunched her eyes shut and wrinkled her nose, and then stretched, it was like his gaze had been glued to her. She’d still been lying down, and her back had sort of arched as she raised her arms over her head and pushed her pillow back, her head tipping to the side before she sat up. It was easily the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, and the way her lips had parted had been giving him grief all morning.

He started bouncing his leg.

If he’d been close enough, would he have heard her make a sound? A breathy sort of mewl? Or something deeper and infinitely more enticing? Her accent – would that change the way it sounded or not? He spent a few moments trying to imagine it properly.

His bouncing leg sped up.

Junkrat didn’t know what sound she’d made or even if she’d made a sound at all, but what he did know was that if he didn’t stop trying to imagine it, he was going to get a hard on in front of everyone and then… die, probably.

He closed his eyes tightly and leaned back. At least she’d come back from the bathroom wearing her other Vishkar uniform, the white and purple one that covered every inch of her skin apart from her face and hands. It was extremely helpful of her; he wasn’t sure he’d have survived if she put her slitted skirt on again. Her legs were stunning but very distracting, and he didn’t think he could handle it.

He didn’t know what this _meant_. Did she like him? Had she had a momentary lapse in brain function? Why had she responded? Junkrat honestly hadn’t thought she would. It was very confusing and he wanted very badly to ask her, but wasn’t sure if he could handle the rejection if she shot him down to his face. It would be so incredibly mortifying, particularly because she would _know_ that he liked her and she would think he was pathetic.

Junkrat gritted his teeth at the thought. No, the one thing he wasn’t going to do was mention it. To Satya, anyway. He still hadn’t gotten Roadhog in a private enough place to tell him yet, and he was dying to get the words off his chest. He needed Roadie’s perspective and he needed for him to tell him that he was a dumbarse, but most of all he needed him to tell him what Hoggie thought Satya’s angle was.

Roadhog’s hand came down on his knee to still his bouncing, and Junkrat jumped and scowled. He knew that Roadie knew that something was up, and had no doubt that once they got back to the watchpoint Hog’d corner him and make him spill his guts.

Their arrival back at Gibraltar was precisely how he’d imagined; boring. Well, aside from Mullock meowing loud enough to wake the dead. Winston dragged them all into a debriefing the instant they returned, and they wasted two hours of time he could have been using to tell Roadie all his problems. It was worse when 76 took the stage; he just wouldn’t shut up.

They were released eventually, much to Junkrat’s relief, and he and Hog headed straight to Hog’s room, Mullock following along with his tail in the air. Once there, Junkrat clambered onto the bed and clutched a pillow in his lap, while Mullock curled up at his feet. Roadhog settled onto his desk chair with a creak and watched expectantly.

Junkrat sighed and decided to get straight to it. “Tried t’kiss her.” He mumbled, and Roadhog paused.

“ _Tried_.” He rumbled flatly, and Junkrat nodded miserably.

Roadhog exhaled deeply. “Y’dumbarse. What made ya think _that_ was a good idea?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know!” Junkrat twisted the pillow in his hands. “Just kinda happened. Just went for it.” He giggled weakly. “Dunno what I was thinkin’.”

“What’d she do?”

Junkrat was silent for a long moment. “…She was gonna kiss me back.” He said quietly.

Roadhog straightened up at that. “Yer sure?”

“Yeah! I ain’t that much of a moron.” Junkrat scowled. “She was gonna.”

“Gonna? So what happened?”

His scowl deepened. “Fuckin’ Winston called her. I swear, that _fuckin’_ monkey has the worst _fuckin’_ timin’ on the whole _fuckin’_ planet!” He paused for a moment after that little outburst, then continued. “On her comm. Wanted her t’go do somethin’ with her hard light, I think. She just… left. Seemed embarrassed. Ain’t looked at me since.” He glanced up at Roadhog, who wore an air of contemplation. “Whadaya think?”

“Dunno yet. Y’ _sure_ she was gonna kiss ya?”

“Yes, I’m fuckin’ sure.” Junkrat snapped. “I just… I dunno what t’do now.”

Roadhog eyed him thoughtfully, hands folded overtop his giant belly. “Y’could talk t’her.”

Junkrat shook his head vehemently. “Nah. No fuckin’ way.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She’d _know_.”

“She’d know.” Roadhog rumbled, sounding exasperated. “Know what?”

Junkrat scowled. “That – that – y’fuckin’ _know_ what, ya great lump! That I like her, ‘course!”

“She’d know.”

“Yeah.”

“That y’like her.”

“Yeah.”

Roadhog tilted his head to the side. “Good theory. One problem.”

Junkrat’s expression settled into confused lines. “What? What’s the problem?”

“She _already_ knows, y’dumbarse. She found yer drawin’s, remember? And y’ain’t the subtlest bloke on the block. Trust me, she fuckin’ knows.”

Junkrat scowled, opened his mouth, found nothing to say, then closed it again. “But – but-” He spluttered. “Why would she-”

Roadhog interrupted and looked at Mullock. “The cat.”

“What? What about him?”

“When y’found him.”

Junkrat stared. Roadie had officially lost the plot. “Yeah?”

“An’ I got Symmetra.”

 _Oh_. “Yeah, what about it?”

Roadhog sighed. “When I found her an’ told her y’fell off the cliff, she seemed real worried. Tried t’hide it, but I could tell.”

That reminded him of yesterday like a bomb going off in his head. “Like fuckin’-! Yesterday when I was with her, roight, I got shot.” Junkrat paused. “In the head, roight, an’-.”

Roadhog made a convulsive movement. “ _What!?”_ He rumbled, and Junkrat frowned.

“What? I toldja.”

“No, y’didn’t.” Roadhog sounded displeased, and Junkrat scowled, feeling confused.

“I did fuckin’ too! Didn’t I?”

“Nope.”

Junkrat leaned back. “Oh. Well, ‘Metra had her shields up. ‘M fine.” He paused for a moment to collect himself. “She was real worried though. After the Talon fucks fucked off out the window, she like, grabbed me. Made sure I wasn’t hurt. She looked pretty upset.”

Roadhog nodded as if confirming something. “Well. I reckon she likes ya.” He nodded again. “She kissed yer cheek too. Y’don’t do that with people y’don’t like.”

Junkrat felt like there was something tight in his chest. “Y’reckon?”

“Yeah. But, I reckon she won’t wanna show it. Vishkar an’ shit. They won’t like their best architech in ten years gettin’ involved with a Junker.”

Junkrat began to protest but then got distracted. “Oi, Vishkar’s just a bunch of wankers – ten years?” That sounded oddly specific.

Roadhog opened his desk drawer and rifled through it for a moment, and came up with a magazine. “Meant t’show ya.” He rumbled. “But we fucked off t’Numbani before I could.”

Junkrat took the magazine and stared. “That’s ‘Metra!” He exclaimed, staring at the woman on the cover of the magazine. She was wearing her visor in the picture, and her hair was swirling around her face as she gazed coolly up at the camera. Junkrat gawked at her, entranced. “She’s on the cover of a magazine?”

“She’s been on a whole shitload.” Roadhog sounded amused. “Y’ever looked her up? She’s famous. The magazine reckons she’s the best architech they’ve had in a decade.”

Junkrat giggled nervously. “Really?”

Roadhog inclined his head, and Junkrat ripped open the magazine to find her interview, but he ignored the words in favour of staring at the pictures. They’d evidently done a photoshoot for the magazine, because the shots were artistic and she looked beautiful. There was a candid one of her shaking hands with a client of some sort, dressed in the white Vishkar uniform and standing beside a tall Indian man who looked very smarmily pleased. There were several obviously staged ones of her in her slitted skirt and visor, the blue matching the blue of the hard light construct she’d conjured for the pictures. The other two were his favourite, however. In one, Satya was wearing something almost like the outfit she’d worn to the Belvedere, but it was sort of… different. The top was different, and the fabric that draped over her shoulder was different too. In that one, she wore a vibrant red skirt caught mid-flare as she spun in a circle, arms held aloft in a position that looked similar to what she used to craft her constructs, but he was pretty sure she didn’t spin like that. In the other, she was sort of… half crouching, almost, with her hands held in a very strange position. Her pants were strange too, with a half circle of pleated fabric hanging to her knees. Brow furrowed, Junkrat frowned until he got it.

In Numbani, Satya had said she liked to dance, and he rapidly scanned the article but realised with some frustration that it was written in Spanish. He attempted to read it anyway and failed miserably, but then he spotted a particular word starting with _B_. There it was – _Bharatanatyam_. Junkrat couldn’t for the life of him remember how to pronounce it, however, but wasn’t that it? The word Satya had said to him when she was talking about dance? He couldn’t be sure, but he was reasonably certain it was.

“Where’d y’get this?” He asked.

“In town the other day. Buncha old magazine’s ready fer tossin’ on the sidewalk.”

“Huh.”

“Saw her on the cover an’ was curious, an’ thought y’d like t’see it.”

Junkrat nodded in affirmation. “She dances.”

Roadhog nodded. “Looks like it.”

Junkrat shook his head. “Nah, she told me. In Numbani.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Roadhog leaned back, chair creaking alarmingly. “So y’like her. She knows. ‘M pretty sure she likes ya, an’ now y’know that. Whadaya gonna do about it?”

Junkrat shrugged helplessly. “Fuck if I know.”

“Talk t’her. Don’t let it get awkward.”

“Too late.” Junkrat muttered.

Roadhog chuckled. “Get goin’.”

“Where to!?”

“The workshop, obviously. Act natural.”

Junkrat stared desperately. “Ain’t y’gonna come?”

“Not on yer nelly. Get fuckin’ goin’, Fawkes, an’ don’t fuck it up.”

Junkrat scowled and slowly peeled himself off the bed. He slouched to the door and set off for the workshop, Mullock following along behind. To be fair, he did have lots of work to do – plenty of grenades to make, and a new RIPtire… what was usually a great distraction didn’t really work now, and by the time he got to the workshop, he’d nearly worked himself into such a state he felt like dying right there in the hall.

When he walked in, however, there was a distraction that served as a very helpful buffer between himself and the terrifyingly scary figure that was Satya.

That distraction was a tall, energetic looking blonde woman chatting animatedly to Satya, leaning against her workbench. She had a cheerful, pretty sort of face, and a German accent. Her brows rose dramatically when she saw him, an undecipherable expression on her face.

Junkrat stared at her, mystified, until Satya noticed he was there.

“Oh, Junkrat – let me introduce you.”

She led the blonde woman over and gestured at her. “This is Brigitte, Reinhardt’s armourer. Brigitte, this is Junkrat, our demolitions expert.”

Junkrat twigged once he heard her name. “Oh, roight, Brigitte. Reinhardt’s thingamajig. Y’fed Mullock for me. Gotcha.”

He looked down at his feet, where Mullock was sniffing Brigitte’s ankles, and the two women followed suit.

“Oh, he’s yours? It was my pleasure to look after him. He’s a fussy thing.” Brigitte said, smiling. “Wouldn’t eat anything but fresh chicken.”

Junkrat laughed, shoulders hunching. “Oh, he’s gotcha wrapped round his little finger! Little paw, whatever. He ain’t fussy if ya don’t give him anythin’ else.”

Brigitte’s smile widened. “That’s mean! Poor little kitty.”

He chuckled and then looked around at the cases of stuff that obviously belonged to her. “So yer movin’ in?”

Satya spoke then, her gaze clear as she met his eyes. “Yes, Brigitte will be taking another of the workbenches in here as a permanent space.”

“One close to the forge, hopefully.” Brigitte herself put in. “Do you use the forge a lot?”

“Me? Nah. Well, sometimes, if I need a custom shell, but I’m usually good.”

“So you make explosives from scratch?” Brigitte peered at his bench. “That’s really cool. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Junkrat grinned. “I’d be happy to.”

“Thanks! So – Junkrat. I assume that’s a codename?”

Junkrat hesitated, met Satya’s eye, and hesitated again. “Yeah. Technically.”

He left it at that, and Satya took up the slack. “Junkrat and Roadhog don’t use their real names.” She said quietly to Brigitte. “They prefer to be known by their monikers.”  

“Oh, I see. Sorry about that!”

“‘S fine.” Junkrat turned towards his desk. “Got lotsa work t’do, so might catcha later, ay?”

“Yes, I’ve got to fetch the rest of my things up. Rein and Torb are unloading things now for me and I’d better go help them!” Brigitte left with a smile and goodbye, and suddenly Junkrat was alone. With Satya. He fidgeted for a moment, then looked up at her. She was watching him, a contemplative expression on her face.

“I suppose you have lots to do, now that we’re back from Numbani?” She asked, and he scrambled for an answer.

“Yeah. Yeah, got lots. Need a new RIPtire an’ plenty of grenades… gonna be busy.”

Satya nodded. She was, thankfully, still wearing her Vishkar uniform. He didn’t think he could handle it if she wore a skirt right now. “I’ll let you get to work.”

She went to turn away and Junkrat couldn’t help himself. He forgot every ounce of self-control he possessed and opened his mouth. “Sat, wait. About Numbani…” He faltered as she turned back around.

Satya was, to his surprise, wearing an annoyed expression. “I didn’t think you’d mention it.” She said, and he giggled weakly. However… she sounded more annoyed that he’d brought it up than annoyed about the actual almost kiss – Junkrat took that as a good sign.

“Uh, yeah. So…”

“So.” Satya took a step closer and eyed him thoughtfully. “I don’t believe that anything happened that would require… discussion.”

 _She doesn’t want t’talk about it!_ Alarm bells screeched inside his brain and Junkrat tapped his fingers together anxiously. “Yeah, nah, course. I meant, y’know. Yesterday. Me RIPtire. Wanted t’know if y’thought it was effective.” He lied through his teeth, and Satya’s eyes widened as her mouth dropped open slightly.

“ _Oh_.” Satya glanced away, looking distinctly ruffled. “I see. I thought you meant… never mind.” She brushed her hair behind her ear. “It was effective, yes.”

Now he’d made up this lie, he had to stick to it. “Nah, see, cause it didn’t really do anythin’ t’yer hard light.” He took a step closer, genuine curiosity now curling in his chest. “Wanted t’know if hard light can be destroyed, cause I don’t much like thinkin’ me bombs are duds.”

Satya looked more relaxed now. “I see. It’s a valid question. Hard light is after all, hard light. It’s impervious to a great deal of things.” She tilted her head and a curious expression entered her eyes. “Perhaps you’d like a sample to experiment on.”

Junkrat bounced on his toes. “Y’mean y’d give me some hard light t’blow up!?”

Her lips curved into a smile; it was slight, but it was there. “If you like.”

“ _Nice_.” Junkrat followed her over to her workbench, and it wasn’t until she flicked him an inquiring look over her shoulder that he realised; she didn’t mean right now. “Oh, uh, later, y’mean?”

The curve to her lips deepened slightly. “Yes, later. I’ve got to dream up something to craft for you first.”

“Makes sense.” Junkrat attempted a recovery by moving back a step. “Tell me when y’do, ay?”

“I will.”

Wanting to keep the conversation going, Junkrat groped about for a topic. “Whadaya think of Brigitte?”

“She’s quite nice.” Satya reached for her tablet and flicked it on. “I dare say it won’t be a hardship to share the workshop with her.”

“Nah, yeah, yer roight. An’ she likes bombs too.” Junkrat grinned, cheered by the thought.

“Which is clearly the measure of good taste.” Satya’s tone was dry and teasing, and Junkrat hunched over into laughter.

“Yer roight there, I reckon.” He stopped, for a sudden thought had just wormed its way into his mind. “Hey, uh… readin’ lessons. They… still on?”

Satya was quiet for a moment. “I see no reason why they wouldn’t be.” She said finally, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good. I thought – well. Don’t matter anyway.” His giggle was decidedly nervous. “Maybe tomorrow then? Or the next day?”

“We’ll see. I may be busy but if I am free I’ll let you know.”

“See ya then.” Junkrat loped away to his workbench, a grin on his face and a weight lifted from his chest. Satya was still going to talk to him, and he felt like now the initial conversation was over, it wouldn’t be quite as awkward. He didn't quite know what to think about her reaction - she very clearly didn't want to talk about the almost kiss, nor did she seem in anyway inclined to do it again. She'd gone from hot to cold and Junkrat didn't know how - or if - she'd end up hot again. His fingers tightened around a wrench and he tapped it absently against the bench. He still wished he’d actually been able to kiss her – _that_ _stupid interferin’ fuckin’ monkey_ – but all things considered, this first awkward broaching of the subject had gone fairly well. He just needed to play it safe and watch for her signals. After all, if it had happened once, it could happened again - and next time, Winston wouldn't necessarily be there to interrupt. A lopsided grin tilted his lips up, and Junkrat spun the wrench in his hand before reaching for a half-completed mine, content for the moment to just imagine it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told you this boy was still confused
> 
> and now its time for christmas~


	44. Be Our Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's nearly christmas and Satya doesn't know what to get for Junkrat.

_Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way…_

“Ugh.” Satya massaged her sore temples and grimaced to herself. Christmas carols had been blaring through the speakers all morning, a testament to the fact that it was December 23rd and therefore, nearly Christmas. Honestly, Satya was sick of it already.

“Athena.” She called, and waited for the cool tone of the AI to reach her.

“Symmetra. How may I be of assistance?”

“Can you do something about these carols? They are giving me a terrible headache.”

She could almost hear Athena processing her request. “Agent D.Va insisted they be played all day, with no exceptions. However, I can turn them off in the workshop for now.”

“Thank you.” Satya said in relief. “I appreciate it.” The carols pulsing through the workshop cut off and she rubbed her temples in pure appreciation for the silence. She tipped her head back, rubbing her neck as she exhaled deeply, trying to will the pain away.

“Oi, where’d the music go?”

Satya frowned slightly; she’d forgotten that Junkrat hadn’t left the workshop – he’d merely gone into the storage room, no doubt to hunt up some more supplies for his bombs. Since Brigitte had left to hunt down Reinhardt, the workshop had been otherwise blessedly free of people.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly, eyes closed and still rubbing her neck. “Were you listening to it? It’s just that I’ve got a terrible headache and the carols are making it worse.”

“Oh.”

She heard the distinct sound of Junkrat approaching, and opened her eyes as he arrived by her side.

“Y’been t’see Merc?” He asked, and she raised a brow.

“Are you _recommending_ medical attention? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Junkrat grinned, his tongue curling lazily around a golden tooth. “Who, me? Never.”

“Hm. Well, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine. I’ve taken painkillers.”

“Ah.” Junkrat nodded and glanced to the side. Satya eyed him calmly – their return from Numbani was now over a week in the past, and she was very proud of herself for handling it like she had. They hadn’t discussed it at all whatsoever, and from the way he acted, she was quite sure it had been left in the past. She was very happy to leave it there, as she told herself constantly.

If only she could listen.

Late at night, her traitorous mind had taken to imagining it without her consent – she knew what it felt like when she was pressed against Junkrat’s chest, and what it felt like to have his arms tight around her waist. Her imagination, therefore, was fond of topping the whole thing off with elaborate little daydreams of what it would be like when he _truly_ kissed her, and… maybe a little more than simply kissing him. Imagination, Satya thought crossly, was really a very unhelpful thing.

At that moment, she realised she could hear footsteps, and turned just as Junkrat did to face the door, where a number of small blonde and ginger children spilled into the room. She heard Junkrat swear under his breath in a tone of confusion and she stood up to meet them, scarcely less confused until Torbjörn entered the room, followed by Reinhardt and with a lovely blonde woman beside him. Oh – now she remembered. Torbjörn was bringing his family to the watchpoint for Christmas, as were some of the others. Tracer’s girlfriend Emily had arrived the day before, though Satya wasn’t sure if anyone else was coming. She blinked at the multitude of children running around chattering wildly in Swedish, then turned an inquiring eye to Torbjörn.

“Symmetra, Junkrat… come and meet my family!” He beamed.

Satya couldn’t help her smile as she moved forwards. Torbjörn’s wife smiled pleasantly at her.

“My wife, Klara.” Torbjörn introduced them. “Klara, this is Symmetra and Junkrat.”

Satya smiled. “Pleased to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Klara replied. Her voice was just as accented as her husband’s, and Satya shook her outstretched hand. Klara turned with an inquiring raise of her brow, and Junkrat grinned at her, though he made no move to offer his hand. “G’day.”

Klara’s brow rose higher. “And your name is… Junkrat? How interesting.” Her voice turned sharp as she admonished one of her children for attempting to climb a set of shelves, before turning back to Junkrat. “It’s nice to meet you.”

One of Torbjörn’s smaller children – Satya counted eight of them – came over to peer with unbridled interest at Junkrat’s prosthetic leg.

“What did you do?” He asked curiously, and an undecipherable expression crossed Junkrat’s face.

“I got blown up.” He replied, and the boy’s eyes widened.

“With a _cannon?_ Are you a pirate?”

Satya’s amused exhale joined the laughter of the other adults in the room as more of Torbjörn’s children came over to examine Junkrat’s peg leg. The smaller children were very taken with the ‘pirate’, and badgered him until Junkrat ended up sitting on his chair, a circle of children surrounding him. She had to admit, he looked very out of place as he began an uncertain rendition of the time he’d lost his leg. The expression on his face made her think that whatever children he’d spent time with in the past (if indeed he _had_ spent time with children at all) had not exactly behaved like these ones.

Satya moved closer to Klara in the space afforded by Junkrat’s storytelling.

“It’s nice to put a face to the name at last.” She said, and Klara laughed.

“Oh? What’s he been saying?” She teamed this with an affectionate tap on Torbjörn’s nose, and the engineer chuckled deeply.

“Nothing I shouldn’t have.” He said, his gruff voice playful, and it was such a sweet scene Satya couldn’t help her smile.

“Disgustingly gooey, aren’t zey?” Reinhardt rumbled, his tone amused.

“It’s very sweet.” Satya replied, her smile widening as Torbjörn’s cheeks reddened slightly.

“Ach, get away.” He said gruffly, then turned to his wife and spoke rapidly in Swedish. Then, he reverted back to English. “We’d best be off. Lots to do!” Torbjörn’s eyes crinkled as he took in the sight of his children gathered, wide-eyed, around Junkrat, who looked rather unnerved from the attention. “When story time is over, tell them to come to the kitchens, ay?”

Satya promised that she would, and then Torbjörn, Reinhardt and Klara left, and she sat down at her desk, but rather than continue on with her work, she turned to listen to Junkrat.

“-an’ then, I noticed some rustlin’ up ahead, an’ I went t’check it out-” He was gesticulating madly as he got more into the story he was telling, the children oohing and ahhing at opportune moments, and Satya smiled to see it. Her headache had receded a little since Athena had turned off the carols, and she found she was able to ignore it further as Junkrat continued with his tale.

“Roight, so, it turned out t’be a coupla rats scurryin’ about.” Junkrat looked up, met her gaze, realised she was listening, and his words faltered. “Er… what was I sayin’?”

“Rats!” Chorused the children, and he nodded sagely.

“Roight. Rats. Good fer eatin’, if y’don’t mind all them tiny little bones.”

“Ew!” Said a little blonde girl. “You’ve eaten _rats?”_

Junkrat grinned, revealing his gold teeth. “Sure have. Staple pirate diet roight there.”

“You aren’t a pirate though!” Said another little girl, and her brother turned to argue with her.

“He is too! He has a peg leg, everyone knows only pirates have peg legs!”

Junkrat, she could tell, was now only barely holding back laughter.

“ _And_ , he has gold teeth!” Another brother added, sounding as though this put an end to the debate all together.

His sister scowled. “Pirates don’t exist anymore. Not _real_ pirates.” She said patiently, as though arguing with her brothers was a common event. “So he can’t be.” Evidently seeking help, the girl turned and scurried over to Satya to ask her question.

“ _Is_ he a pirate?” She asked, and Satya looked about for help. She had no idea how to handle children – she’d barely had any experience with them. She met Junkrat’s gaze and then moved past him, to where Mullock was asleep on his bench.

“I think you had better ask his ship’s cat.” Satya said, and thankfully this was enough of a diversion for the children, and she was no longer the centre of attention.

“A ship’s cat! I told you he was a pirate!” The ginger haired boy crowed, much to the displeasure of his sister.

“Hey, where did Mamma and Pappa go?” Asked one of the older girls, and that distracted the rest of them.

“Mamma?”

Where did they go?”

Satya spoke up then. “Your father told me to say that he has gone back to the kitchen with your mother, and want you to meet them there.”

“The kitchen? Where is the kitchen?” Asked the oldest girl. After receiving directions, the little troop headed off down the corridor, and Satya was left alone with Junkrat.

“A pirate, hmm?” She asked, turning to him with a hint of amusement.

Junkrat hunched into his laughter, eyes scrunching shut as he giggled till he ran out of breath. “Yep. Thief _and_ a pirate, gotta remember to put that on me resume. Funny little buggers, ain’t they?”

“Very.” Satya moved to the side, but kept her gaze on him. “You’re surprisingly good with children.”

Junkrat stopped laughing then, and gave her a puzzled look. “Y’think so?”

“It would seem so. They were all quite enraptured with your story.”

He grinned, the gold-tinted smile lopsided but very pleased. “Yer just bein’ nice.”

“I assure you, I am quite sincere.” Satya gave him a small smile. “I’m almost envious.”

Junkrat’s grin widened. “Nah. Well, I mean maybe. I’m more used t’kids tryna flog me things – if Torb’s kids don’t steal all me shit, we’ll get along rosy.”

Satya barely refrained from rolling her eyes, and then the pain lurking at her temples gave a particularly nasty throb and she winced, rubbing her temple lightly.

“Oi, y’feelin’ okay?” Concerned was written on Junkrat’s features, and Satya nodded.

“I’m fine. My head hurts that’s all. Unluckily for me, it’s too close to Christmas to take time off. I have to finish these presents.”

Junkrat’s face lit up. “Y’got me somethin’?” He asked in what she was sure was supposed to be a coy manner.

“That was the general idea, was it not? To get something for everyone?” Satya turned back to her bench and sat down, only to find a shock of ruffled and patchy blond locks appearing at her elbow as he, for some reason known only to himself, crouched beside her.

“Whadidja get me?” Junkrat’s tone was enthusiastic and curious, and Satya raised a brow at him.

“I’m not telling you now. You have to wait until Christmas.”

As a matter of fact, Satya did not have a present for him yet. She’d sorted just about everyone out, but Junkrat was giving her grief. She just… couldn’t find anything that seemed right. She told herself that she was overthinking it, and that she could probably craft a mine and he’d be delighted, but something was stopping her from taking the easy way out.

“Aw, c’mon…”

Satya attempted to fish for clues. “What do you want for Christmas?”

Junkrat’s eyes widened. “Y’didn’t get anything fer me.”

When she couldn’t come up with an answer – or a denial – right away, Junkrat’s expression became disappointed. “Y’didn’t.” He muttered, sounding thoroughly disenchanted.

Satya sighed. “Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll get you something. I just… haven’t found anything yet. You’re a hard man to shop for.”

A small grin appeared. “Yeah? Don’t reckon so meself. A mine or a grenade or hell, some gunpowder’d do the trick.”

“I refuse to further encourage bad habits.” Satya said primly. “And anyway, this must go both ways. I’m getting you something nice and I fully expect something in return.”

Junkrat’s expression became excited then. “I got y’somethin’.”

“I know.” Satya said dryly, flicking a glance towards the shelf that bore this week’s efforts, messily wrapped in mismatched paper. There was one for every member of the recall. “And I know what it is, too.”

Junkrat giggled, shoulders hunching with sheer delight. “Somethin’ tells me that ain’t fair.”

“Possibly not.” Seeing a chance to tease him, Satya leaned down towards him and lowered her voice. “I suppose that means you shouldn’t work on other people’s presents with them in the room.”

His laugh was even more delighted. “Prob’ly.”

Satya straightened up, aware that she was smiling but somehow unable to quell the expression. “All right, I must be off. I have presents to prepare.” She teamed this with a significant look, and Junkrat’s grin widened, if that were possible.

“Fair ‘nuff. See ya later then, ay?”

“Yes, I will.” Satya stood up and smoothed down her skirt. “Bye, Jamison.”

His smile took on the hint of pure satisfaction that appeared whenever she addressed him by his real name, and he leaned forwards a fraction. “Yeah. Bye, Sat.”

 _“_ It’s _Satya_.” She corrected firmly, and he hunched into a grin.

“I know.” Junkrat's tone was mischievous and quite pleased with himself, and Satya struggled to keep from grinning as she raised a brow.

“Hm. You’d do best to remember it.”

She strode from the room before he could reply, and made her way back to her bedroom. She ran into Hanzo in the corridors and chatted to him for a bit, and would have talked to him for longer, but the throbbing in her temples was picking up, so she excused herself and let herself into her room, her thoughts returning to the workshop. Now that Junkrat had brought it up, she realised she really did need to put some thought into what she was going to get him for Christmas. It’d seem strange if she got presents for some and not all.

Satya sat down on her bed, reclining on her pillows, and thought. Perhaps she could just do the easy thing and get him something explosive, but no… she mulled things over for a little while and then found herself becoming distracted thinking about Christmas dinner. It was sure to be a noisy affair, with so many people plus Torbjörn’s young children… Satya hoped she’d be placed away from the children, and debated the merits of taking earplugs, just in case.

Still, it was sweet to see Torbjörn so happy with his family. A tinge of bitterness laced the thought. She didn’t get to see her family, and neither did – _oh_. Satya smiled to herself, because she suddenly knew exactly what to get for Junkrat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well I'm back from holidays so I should have a slightly more reliable posting schedule happening from now on 
> 
> it's nearly christmas eve~
> 
> also since Torb's wife doesn't have a canon name yet I'm naming her Klara


	45. 'Twas the Night before Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's christmas eve and the recall is enjoying a small party of sorts

Christmas Eve was so much more fun when there were friends to spend it with.

Junkrat had spent years barely knowing what year it was, let alone the day of holidays. Once out of Australia and in the real world, he and Hog had done one Christmas. Their first year they were still very much in a business relationship, and had ignored it. The second year, they’d been in Madrid, and had half-heartedly celebrated – they’d gotten each other a present, wrapped it in newspaper, and given it to the other, never to mention it again. Roadie’d gotten him a box of fuses and wires and timers stolen from God only knew where, and Junkrat had stolen his bodyguard an awesome gun from… from… well, Junkrat didn’t actually remember who’d previously owned it. He just knew it was awesome.

Now, his third Christmas away from home, he was sitting on the grassed area in front of the base, watching McCree preside over the drinks. Hog was talking to Mercy while Mei, Pharah, Hana and Reinhardt were dancing to Lúcio’s music – the DJ had a lot of complicated stuff set up. Too complicated just to play a bit of music, if you asked Junkrat. Night was falling, and though the sun was on the verge of setting, no one was making any move to go inside. It was chilly and the air off the ocean was brisk and nippy, so everyone was warmly wrapped in jumpers and long things – Junkrat was bundled into a puffy parka that he’d found after raiding the lost and found cupboard. Mercy said those clothes had been there for years, but they were clean-ish and weren’t falling apart at the seams, so to him they were practically brand new.

He drained his beer and stood up, fully intending to head over to McCree for another one. On the way, he ran into 76, who was sipping whiskey and frowning.

“Evening, Junkrat.” He said, tone sharp as usual. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah mate, she’s good.”

76 nodded in that way that let someone know they were dismissed, and Junkrat slouched off, reaching McCree at last.

“G’day.” He said, chucking his empty bottle in the bin.

“Rat, back for another, ay?” McCree leaned down and opened the esky. “What can I getcha?”

“Another beer’ll be fine, cheers.”

A glint appeared in McCree’s eye. “Fosters…?”

Junkrat scoffed. “Get fucked. Give us somethin’ decent or I’m rackin’ off.”

McCree chuckled deeply and straightened up, a stubby in hand. Junkrat took the bottle and examined it carefully – it didn’t appear to say Fosters, though he didn’t recognise the brand, so he nodded his thanks and left.

Two of Torbjörn’s kids were wrestling on the ground in the gathering twilight, and Junkrat neatly sidestepped them as he headed towards the rocks to sit down again. He’d barely sat down and got his stubby opened before the hair on the back of his neck prickled. Junkrat wrenched his head to the side and flinched to see Zenyatta hovering there.

“The fuck d _’you_ want?” He snapped, preparing to get up and go sit somewhere less omnic-y.

“Please, do not distress yourself.” Zenyatta’s robotic tone sounded gentle as the monk raised a metal hand. “I simply wish to talk.”

Junkrat eyed him – it – what the fuck ever – with suspicion. “The hell for?”

Zenyatta was silent for a moment. “I have wanted to speak with you for a while, but refrained. I know your opinion of omnics-”

“An’ fer bloody good reason.” Junkrat snapped, and Zenyatta paused.

“If you had let me finish, I would have said that I understand and do not find your opinion on us incorrect.”

Junkrat stared. That had not been what he expected. “…What?”

Zenyatta tilted his head. “You sound surprised. Surely you know what I am. The Shambali was formed because we found the actions of our brothers so repulsive.”

Junkrat scoffed. “If y’say so.”

“You don’t believe me, and knowing what happened in Australia, I don’t blame you.” Zenyatta’s tone changed, become more sombre. “I wish to apologise. Not on behalf of my brothers, for I know they are guilty, but as an omnic myself. It is my fellow omnics who caused the world such pain, and I simply wished you to know how sorry I am for it.”

Junkrat stared. He raised a finger, attempted to come up with some sort of legible sentence to say, and failed. He lowered his finger and watched the omnic for a moment. “What.” He said flatly, regarding the omnic with blank suspicion.

Zenyatta sighed, or made the robotic equivalent of a sigh, and tilted his head. “I wasn’t sure if you’d accept it. Genji believed that you wouldn’t. At any rate, I wished to give you the benefit of the doubt.” The monk bowed slightly. “I am sorry for disturbing you.”

Junkrat watched Zenyatta float away with nothing short of utter bafflement… which soon turned to unease. Zenyatta had apologised. On the one hand, his immediate reaction was to disregard the probable lies of the filthy bot, but on the other hand… if he was genuine… Junkrat scowled. _Fuckin’ tin cans, comin’ in here an’ confusin’ blokes… ain’t got no roight._ He’d never thought kindly of omnics – they were reason his parents were dead, the cause of his being a Junker, and by extension, the reason he’d lost limbs and teeth and the cause of years of living half-starved in the Outback. Omnics, he firmly believed, could all go get fucked.

“Feh.” He muttered under his breath. “Betcha he reckon’s he’s bein’ all _noble_ , apologisin’ t’the riffraff…” Junkrat took a deep swig of beer and scowled into the distance.

Such was his distraction that he only noticed a presence at his side when that presence had lowered herself to the rock beside him.

“Hello.”

Junkrat turned and found himself looking into Satya’s golden eyes.

“Well, g’day.” He said, injecting cheer into his voice. “What brings ya over here?”

Satya was nursing a glass in which blue liquid swirled with her movements as she motioned in the direction of the omnic as he hovered before Mei. “Zenyatta was talking to you.”

Junkrat’s scowl deepened. “Yeah. Fuckin’ dickhead.” He took another swig of beer.

“What did he say to you?”

Junkrat shook his head, unwilling to divulge it even to her. “Just some bullshit ‘bout the Omnic Crisis. Wanted t’know about… home.” He drank deeply from his stubby to occupy himself.

“Oh.” Satya took sip of her drink and smiled surprisingly broadly at him. Not that her smile was unwelcome, but it was puzzling. She usually… wasn’t so unreserved with her smiles. Junkrat eyed her for a moment, and took in her slightly flushed cheeks, the enthusiastic way she was sipping her drink, and the way her body language seemed much looser than normal, and realisation slotted into place. A slow, thoroughly amused smile hitched his lips into a smirk.

“Lookin’ a bit shickered there.” He observed, and Satya looked comically confused.

“ _Shickered?_ Explain yourself.”

Junkrat snickered. “Drunk.” He elaborated, and Satya scowled.

“I’m not drunk.” She said, voice rather petulant, and he grinned wider.

“Sure. But yer lookin’ pretty tipsy.”

Her forehead wrinkled as she eyed her drink. “I don’t drink very often.” She said, voice lowered as if telling a secret. “I don’t particularly enjoy the taste.” Satya whispered confidingly. “But Jesse said he’d make something special for me.” She frowned as she stared at her drink. “I don’t think it’s very strong. I can’t taste anything.”

Junkrat bit back a laugh; he’d bet a fair bit that McCree hadn’t given her anything weak – he’d have given her something with a lot of flavour to mask the grog, and Satya hadn’t realised that.

“How many have y’had?”

Satya’s forehead creased again. “Um. Four. I think. Maybe five.”

“Crikey.” _Must be strong if she can’t remember._ A thought occurred to him then. “Wait, hold up. _‘Jesse’?_ Since when d’ya call him Jesse?”

Satya giggled, a thoroughly tipsy sound. “Oh, he said I could, before. When he was making my drinks. Called me darlin’ and insisted on it.” She exaggerated McCree’s southern drawl on the word _darlin’_ , and laughed again. “He’s very nice, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, top bloke.” Junkrat eyed her, a bit sour over her McCree-related remarks but overall rather enjoying himself; it wasn’t every day that Satya was so candid in her speech. Also, he’d be lying if he said tipsy Satya wasn’t very interesting indeed. “Are y’meanin’ t’get drunk tonight?”

Satya shook her head, her expression severe. “No. I couldn’t possibly. It’s too unprofessional.” She eyed her drink. “I’m glad Jesse gave me something light.”

Junkrat had to stifle a snigger. “Yeah, sure.” He had the feeling she’d have a few regrets in the morning.

That wasn’t to say she was the only one overindulging; McCree was knocking back whiskey at a rate equal to the drinks he was pouring out for everyone else, while Reinhardt was looking very ruddy as he whirled a laughing Ana around in a messily executed waltz. Mercy was now sitting with Pharah, looking very pink as they laughed softly, heads together, Hana had managed to drink Lúcio under the table with a tray of tequila shots, and he was pretty sure Roadie and Torbjörn were trying to best each other, what with the amount of empty beer bottles scattered around them.  There were going to be some fuzzy heads in the morning; he just wouldn’t have picked Satya to be one of them.

“Isn’t the sunset lovely?” Satya asked, turning her head towards the sun as it dipped down beneath the ocean, staining the softly rolling blue peaks a deep orange.

“Mmm, I guess.” Junkrat took another sip of his beer, furtively eyeing her as he did so. Satya too was wearing something warm, a sleek white coat with little gold accents at the sleeves. She was wearing a skirt still, something he hadn’t understood until he realised that the stockings that had appeared on her legs during winter kept her warm.

Junkrat turned towards the sunset for a moment, and leaned back, his weight resting on his hands behind him. A moment later and his eyes popped wide, for his movement had disrupted Satya, and he very much doubted that she properly realised just how close she was to him now. Her side was pressed against his, and with no small amount of panic he realised her coat was white and he’d been testing explosives that morning – Junkrat relaxed slightly when he remembered that Hog had made him clean up before coming to drinks. _Y’know…_ if he shifted his weight to the right just a smidgen, and moved his prosthetic hand sideways just a bit, he’d technically almost have his arm around her. Junkrat wondered for a moment if he was brave enough to do it.

He went for it. Holding his breath, Junkrat let his arm creep to the side, and Satya moved with him almost unconsciously, settling up against his shoulder. He released his breath slowly, almost in awe, and basked in the bliss of having her so close until he remembered they were in a public setting. His head snapped up and he stared over the top of her head, just knowing that someone would be looking, but no one seemed to be; Torbjörn’s kids were causing a fuss and attracting everyone’s attention. Junkrat breathed a sigh of relief, but all the same, he knew it wasn’t a position he could really hold for long. What with how private Satya was, and all that Vishkar fuckery, she’d be _furious_ with him if tongues started wagging. It was not a pleasant thought.

“Excited fer Chrissy?” Junkrat asked, seeking to distract himself, and Satya made an unenthusiastic noise.

“Oh no – not really. I don’t celebrate.”

 _This_ was a suitable distraction. “Dontcha? Why not?”

Satya giggled and sipped at her drink. “Christmas is a Christian holiday, Jamie, and I’m not Christian.”

A pleased grin turned his lips up and no matter how he tried to shift it, he failed miserably; she’d called him Jamie. Tipsy Satya was turning out to be _very_ enjoyable.

“Yeah?” He stuttered something of a reply. “Yer ah, what’s the word… y’don’t believe?”

Another giggle escaped her throat, and she covered her mouth with her hand as she crinkled into laughter. Though she was drunk and it didn’t count, Junkrat still watched with awed eyes – she was _gorgeous_ when she laughed.

“I’m a Hindu.” She said at last, voice laced with mirth. “As to belief, I’m not entirely sure, but I do like to observe our traditions. Instead of Christmas, we celebrate _Dīpavaḷi_. It isn’t the same holiday, but I suppose it is similar.” Satya took another sip of her drink. “I’m sure Reinhardt and Torbjörn’s dinner will be excellent though.”

Junkrat nodded as he considered this new piece of information; he didn’t know why he’d never considered the possibility of her belonging to a different religion before – he tended to assume people were either vaguely Christian (or at least used the Lord’s name in vain) or simply didn’t believe in anything. “What? Uh, yeah. Gonna be a bit of a feast, I reckon.” _What in the fuck is Dip-vali?_

She nodded enthusiastically, and then her expression turned worried. “Will they be very loud, do you think?” Satya cast a look that was almost anxious at Torbjörn’s children.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Junkrat said easily. “Heard Torb say there’ll be a separate table fer the ankle biters.”

“Oh.” Satya looked relieved. “What a good idea.” She ran out of grog then, and made an exasperated noise as she frowned at her glass. “I’m getting another drink.”

Junkrat grabbed her wrist as she went to stand, and Satya frowned at him.

“What?”

“Better stick t’water, ay?” He said in an undertone. “They’re stronger than y’think, an’ I don’t reckon sober Satya’ll be very happy in the mornin’.”

Her expression turned contemplative as she turned the glass in her hand. “You think they’re very strong?”

“Very.” Junkrat took the glass from her hand. “Y’keep drinkin’ ‘em an’ y’ll end up dead drunk. Don’t reckon that’s yer style.”

Satya wrinkled her nose. “I’ll have some water.” She decided, and much to Junkrat’s regret, she got up and wandered away, swaying ever so slightly as she did. He grinned after her at the sight, but his smile abruptly slipped as he caught sight of Ana – she was looking directly at him, and when she caught his eye she raised her drink in a silent toast, a wry and amused grin on her lips and a twinkle in her eye.

Junkrat immediately sank down low into his parka with an uncomfortable murmur. Shit, shit, shit, _fuck_. Had she seen? Did she know? What was she thinking? Well, so long as Ana didn’t bandy shit about there wouldn’t be issues. God, he hoped she could keep her mouth shut.

He turned his gaze back to Satya, who was talking to McCree with a very annoyed expression on her face. Finally, she was handed a glass of clear liquid rather than blue, and Junkrat wondered if she had actually stuck to water after all. He hoped she would come back over to sit with him again; she looked over her shoulder at him with a contemplative look, but went and sat with Hanzo instead. Junkrat frowned; he’d wanted to her to come back over to talk to him. He watched for a moment as she started talking to Hanzo; the two of them had rather abruptly become something like friends – Hanzo often sat by her at mealtimes now. It was annoying, because _Junkrat_ wanted to sit next to her, but that bloody archer kept taking his place.

Roughly three seconds after Satya sat down, Roadhog appeared at his side.

“Someone’s got game tonight.” He chuckled deeply, and Junkrat shoved ineffectually at his enormous gut.

“Fuck off.” Still, Junkrat knew his ears were red and he didn’t seem to be able to dial down his grin. “She’s off her face, it don’t count.”

Hog chuckled again. “Such a gentleman.”

“Y’know me, Hoggie.” Junkrat chirped. “Always a gentleman!”

Roadhog’s laugh rumbled through him, and Junkrat grinned. “Reckon there’ll be a few sore heads in the mornin’, ay?”

Roadie nodded. “Reckon so.”

Junkrat chanced another glance over towards Satya; she was engrossed in conversation with Mercy now.

“I’m done.” He muttered, standing up. “Got work t’do. Meetcha in the workshop later, ay?”

Roadhog nodded. “Got a bone t’pick with Torb.”

Junkrat looked over at Torbjörn to see him opening another carton of beer, and realised Hog must have interrupted the drink-a-thon to come talk to him. Reinhardt had joined him, and by all accounts looked determined. “Roighto. Good luck.”

Roadhog snorted. “Think I need it?”

“Dunno.” Junkrat replied cheekily. “Everyone’s got a limit.”

Roadhog snorted again, louder this time, and headed over to Torbjörn and Reinhardt with purpose in his stride. Junkrat watched him go, his lips hitched into a grin, and then headed back inside, the better to escape from the thought of Ana’s troubling stare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been ages since an update and for that I apologise, but uni has really kicked it into high gear and I just haven't had the time! 
> 
> a short little chapter this time because its a set up for the much longer and more interesting next chapter, christmas day~


	46. Gift Giver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas day at Overwatch~

Satya could think of days that had got off to a better start. She had woken with a fuzzy head, and though a cold shower and paracetamol had done much to bring back clarity of mind, she had still been feeling the effects of the drink.

She was very angry with herself; to get tipsy in front of co-workers, Christmas Eve or not, was unprofessional and improper. Satya knew, of course, that many of the others nursed similarly foggy heads, but that didn’t excuse her own behaviour.

It didn’t excuse Jesse McCree, either.

She was _exceptionally_ irritated with him; he hadn’t told her how strong the drinks were. Rather, she’d known they were alcoholic, but they’d tasted so.. so… _non_ -alcoholic that she’d just sort of… kept drinking them. They were very nice. She knew now he’d been giving her flavoured vodka liqueur mixed with lemonade, which did an admirable job of masking the harsh flavour of the alcohol. Really, she ought to have been more _sensible_ , not kept going back for more. McCree had been quite tipsy as well, she supposed, but that still didn’t excuse either of them. She’d dressed him down sharply this morning; she’d sought him out and found him sprawled in a chair in the kitchen. However, she’d only gotten through half of what she’d wanted to say, because Christmas carols had suddenly begun blaring through the loudspeakers and Athena had summoned them all to the rec room at the behest of Hana, for it was now what she’d forgotten in the face of her irritation; it was Christmas morning.

“Merry Christmas, Ana. Here.”

“Ah, thank you. Here, I have something for you too.”

Satya turned away from Ana and Jack behind her, and focused on the small mound of presents on the seat beside her. Christmas, she mused, was rather a sweet holiday when you got down to it. Hana was sitting under the tree, half buried in a mound of ripped wrapping paper, showing off her things excitedly to everyone close to her. Satya half smiled at the sight, then turned to Mercy, who had just sat down beside her.

“Hi Satya. How’s your head?”

Irritation rippled, but she didn’t let it show. “I am fine. Merry Christmas, Angela.”

Mercy smiled widely. “Merry Christmas! Here.”

Satya exchanged the gift Mercy offered for the one she’d purchased for her, and opened the wrapping paper neatly. It was a lovely notebook, bound in white leather. Satya loved it immediately.

“Thank you! This is beautiful.” She traced her fingers over the soft leather and beamed.

“So is this!” Angela held up the box containing two champagne flutes. “You’ll have to help me try them out.”

Satya laughed slightly. “If you like.”  

She gave presents to several others after that, and received gifts of her own, and then she was surprised to see Lúcio clear his throat from beside her.

“Symmetra.” He said shortly. “Here.” He held out a small wrapped gift, and Satya took it out of reflex; she had not expected him to give her anything. She unwrapped the present to reveal a blue silk scarf. She blinked at it in astonishment.

“Oh. How lovely.” That was no lie – it was really quite a beautiful thing, woven through with delicate silver threads. She met Lúcio’s gaze and gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

He nodded, and went to say something, but his words faltered when she reached into the pile of gifts she was yet to give and presented one to him.

“This is for you.” She said quietly, and he took it from her, though his expression was odd – he looked almost perplexed as his brows snapped together.

“Oh – you got me something? Man, I didn’t think you would.”

“I believe the message of Christmas is something to do with forgiveness and goodwill, isn’t it?” Satya said. “You don’t have to keep it, if you don’t want to.”

Lúcio still looked puzzled as he ripped the paper off and then when he realised what it was, he grinned broadly.

“This… is actually really cool. Thank you.”

Satya smiled slightly. “You like it? I’m afraid I had some trouble coming up with something to get you.” She phrased her next words delicately. “I don’t know you well enough to make the task an easy one.”

Lúcio’s grin faded as he turned the hard light speaker around in his hands; it was small, designed for use with a phone, but she’d shaped it in the form of a stylised frog head, the same as the design she’d noticed he favoured.

“No, well, it was the same deal with you. Hana picked the scarf.” He shrugged. “You should thank her, really.”

“I see. I will be sure to do so.” Satya mustered a pleasant smile and wondered why he looked so put out.

“I really didn’t think you would.” He muttered again, and Satya raised a brow at him.

“It _is_ Christmas.”

_“Hah!”_

Satya jumped, startled, as McCree let out a hearty guffaw. She hadn’t noticed his approach, and took a reflexive step back.

“That didn’t work out for either of ya, huh?” The cowboy asked, brows raised.

Satya stared at him in confusion. “What didn’t?” She asked, and McCree waggled his brows.

“Y’think what y’both just pulled isn’t noticeable?” He gestured at Lúcio, who looked a little sheepish. “Gettin’ each other gifts so y’could make the other feel guilty when they didn’t get anything.” He winked at Lúcio. “Didn’t work now, did it?”

Lúcio scowled. “Jesse, I-”

“Y’don’t have t’deny it, fella.” McCree winked conspiratorially again, and Satya raised her brows.

“So that’s what this is.” She said, addressing Lúcio in her haughtiest tone. “Well, I can assure you, I only purchased gifts for everyone here. _I_ had no ulterior motive.”

Satya then turned and left without another word, moving to stand beside Hanzo, who greeted her cheerfully enough; they’d given each other very nice tea sets, for the lack of decent cups found in the kitchens was a topic often lamented. She spent a few minutes telling Hanzo what had just happened and he nodded along to her fuming, agreeing with every word she said, though she could tell he didn’t really mean it. When Lúcio had finally headed over to the other side of the room, Satya went back to her gifts; she scooped most of them into her arms with ease, and then made a face at Junkrat’s gift; predicably, he’d made everyone their very own landmine.

She looked at it for a long moment, taking in the smiley painted on the surface with drippy white paint, the sharp, jagged teeth matching the smile stitched onto the patch of his that he’d given her. The thought almost made her smile. The patch in question was in her pocket; she’d taken to carrying it around with her nearly everywhere, for the ability to rub the rough surface between her fingers whenever she needed to was remarkably appealing.

Gingerly, she reached down and picked it up; the detonator she already held, but she had only a limited knowledge of explosives and would rather that she didn’t accidently set it off while carrying it. Satya went back to her room and laid her presents neatly on her bed; amongst them she had received a potted lavender plant from Reinhardt, a book from Pharah and a tongue in cheek bottle of vodka from McCree. She set about finding places to put her new things; the lavender fit neatly on her windowsill, and smelt wonderful. Satya smiled to herself; all in all, Christmas had been a fairly enjoyable morning.

 

* * *

 

The testing range was filled with acrid smoke and loud cheering. Satya waved the smoke away from her face and blinked rapidly for a moment, before focusing on the group of people standing around her. They’d all trooped down to the testing range after breakfast with one goal in mind – to detonate Junkrat’s Christmas landmines.

The Junker in question was clearly having the time of his life, capering around whoever was up next to detonate, showing them what to do and bouncing excitedly when they did it. He’d even made emergency last minute mines for Klara and Emily, claiming it was unfair that they would miss out. Unfortunately for Junkrat, he was so transparent literally everyone could tell this was just an excuse for him to make more bombs.

Ana was shading her eyes, looking at the smoking remains of her mine, which had been filled with something that threw billowing clouds of deep blue smoke, and handed the detonator back to Junkrat. “I can see why you like these.” She said, grinning broadly. “That was fun.”

“Damn roight!” Junkrat said with a high-pitched giggle. “Who’s next?”

“Me!” Shrieked Hana, elbowing her way to the forefront. “I want to go!”

Satya watched with amusement as Junkrat showed Hana how to activate the mine, and then she went skipping across the testing range to set it on the ground, and then she ran back, hair flying, to snatch the detonator from Junkrat’s hand.

“Just press?” She asked excitedly, and Junkrat nodded.

“Just press.”

Hana pressed, and the mine exploded with a noise that made Satya wince. Her mine had been filled with pink glitter, and she was bouncing and pointing excitedly. Junkrat had packed the mines with surprises, it seemed – some had coloured smoke, some had glitter, some had confetti… it was a mystery what the mines contained until they were detonated, and McCree was even taking bets on what each mine was filled with. In addition to the noise of the explosives, Torbjörn’s children were shrieking and running about pell-mell, and she was finding it all very disagreeable.

Once the smoke from Hana’s mine had cleared, it was on to the next one, and so on and so forth until Satya abruptly found herself at the head of the line.

Junkrat’s boundless enthusiasm only seemed to grow as she approached, mine gingerly cradled in her hands, and she noted there was now a kind of nervous, almost manic energy about him.

“Merry Christmas.” She greeted him, and he grinned wider, and his eyes held a kind of delirious joy in them.

“Merry Christmas.” He repeated back to her. “Roight. Ready t’blow somethin’ up?”

“I believe so.” Satya furrowed her brow lightly as she eyed the round disc in her hand.

McCree elbowed his way to the forefront. “Glitter or smoke or confetti?” He bellowed, and Ana promptly put down a dollar on confetti.

“Symmetra, what say you?” The cowboy asked, waggling his brows, and Satya deliberated for a moment.

“Smoke, I think.” She said finally, and noticed Junkrat’s grin getting wider. She turned to face him.

“What do I do?”

Junkrat instantly bounded forwards, the manic light in his eyes not managing to hide the passion he had for the mine in her hands. “Roight, take it out t’the middle of the range an’ set her down on the ground.” Junkrat flipped the mine around in her hands and pointed at the hatch on the side. “Open her up here an’ flick the switch, an’ that’ll activate yer detonator.” He grabbed her detonator and showed her the little LED on the side. “When she’s green, she’s good t’go. Get back over here quick smart an’ y’can blow her up whenever.”

“All right.” Satya frowned slightly at the mine and turned towards the middle of the testing range and set off. She was having mixed feelings about this, but knew that refusing would draw everyone’s attention. Better to get it over and done with.

She handled the mine gingerly, treating it as though it were temperamental, but she got it situated properly without any issues. What had Junkrat said? The hatch on the side… Satya knelt by the mine and flipped open the hatch, and found the switch he’d talked about, and flicked it on. Just like he’d said, the LED on her detonator glowed green, and Satya grimaced at it, careful to keep her fingers away from the button on top. Satya paused for a moment by the mine, still kneeling, for she could all but feel Junkrat’s gaze boring into her. _Ah_. He definitely had an obsession with explosives, and coupled with the fact that she _knew_ he liked her, Satya put two and two together and realised that a potential reason for his far-more-manic-than-usual behaviour was possibly the fact that she was going to detonate one of his mines.

She quickly made her way back to the group standing nestled behind the shelter wall, and then the excitement began to infect her. She grinned at Hana and smiled at Junkrat, who grinned back, looking just as pleased, and flicked up the safety guard on her detonator.

“Good?” She asked Junkrat one last time, and he nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet and making the shock absorbers in his knee squeak.

“When y’ready.” He crowed, and Satya pressed the button. Her mine detonated with a terrific blast, and she screwed her eyes shut and barely resisted the impulse to cover her ears. When she opened her eyes, there was a chorus of ‘oooh!’, and she found the sky filled with teal smoke and silver glitter. It was, for the aftermath of an explosion, rather lovely, and she watched the glitter drifting down gently.

Satya couldn’t help herself. She smiled broadly and laughed to see the glitter clouds catching the light in the teal smoke. “That was quite enjoyable.” She said rather breathlessly, and Junkrat giggled in what was obviously pure joy, and McCree elbowed Lúcio hard in the ribs.

“That’s another one you’ve got wrong. Y’owe me twenty now, my man.”

Lúcio scowled, but Satya paid him no mind as she handed her detonator back to Junkrat, who put it in the pile he had on the ground beside him.

“Who’s next?” Roared Reinhardt, and Satya moved back to the rear of the group, arms wrapped loosely around her waist, her smile still curving her lips; that had been fun. Surprisingly enjoyable, and definitely rather beautiful. Mei moved forwards with her mine, and the Christmas festivities continued.

 

* * *

 

They’d all received a message from Athena informing them that the dress code for Christmas dinner was going to be nice and classy, and so, with pre-dinner drinks starting at six, she and most of the others had gone back to the rooms early to get ready. It was a cocktail affair (mostly so everyone had an excuse to dress up in their fanciest clothes), and Satya had a problem. She did not really own cocktail dresses. The ones she did own? She’d left them back in her apartment in Utopaea, reasoning that she’d never wear them on this assignment. She’d been standing in front of her wardrobe chewing her lower lip for something close to twenty minutes, trying to figure out what to wear. She frowned at her skirts (plain, black, business-like), her blouses (plain, white, business-like), and her shoes (patent leather, sensible heels). She scowled at her dresses, not that she really had anything other than her sarees. She’d brought two with her from India; one a simple, casual one for day-time wear, and one that was a little dressier, though she was yet to wear them at the base. The rest of her clothing was uniforms, pyjamas and active wear, seeing as she usually dressed professionally whenever dispatched anywhere on a job. She’d not expected Overwatch to have parties, and so hadn’t packed accordingly. It left her with very few choices, and she wasn’t going to wear her standard office outfit. She just… was the saree a bit _much_ for a simple Christmas dinner? She’d not have thought twice about wearing it in India, but she’d had how to deal with westerners drilled into her head ever since Vishkar had decided to make her a public face of the company; in her line of work, westerners tended to look strangely upon clothes that weren’t aggressively professional. That’s why she tended to reserve her more traditional clothing for home, or particularly formal events. An exquisite saree was fabulous at a dressy function. She was halfway through pulling her nicer saree from the wardrobe when inspiration struck.

She remembered her skirt.

Satya had bought it during a work trip to Telangana, and had picked it purely because it reminded her of a dim memory of her mother and the clothing that she had worn. Reaching to the top shelf of her wardrobe, she pulled the skirt out and eyed it critically. She hadn’t worn it often, but it was lovely; a floaty ankle length confection of soft dusky rose silk embroidered in a creamy gold. _But what can I wear it with?_ Satya bit her lip and dug through her blouses until she came up with a long-sleeved lace one reserved for business lunches.

It wasn’t exactly what she would have chosen had she had more of a selection to choose from, but it went nicely together and would have to do. Worn with her hair loose and with her favourite gold dangly earrings and her wrists loaded with bracelets, Satya fidgeted with her tikka until she had it sitting neatly along her hairline, and she was ready.

She found drinks to be beginning in the rec room, where Hana was perched on a chair chatting to Lúcio in a bright pink tulle confection of a dress, and McCree was wearing a blue cotton shirt and a disgruntled expression.

“Howdy.” He said, offering her a grin. “Can I get you somethin’ to drink?”

Satya gave him her pointiest look. “You most certainly may not.”

McCree chuckled deeply as he followed her towards the table where bottles of wine had been set out. “Guess I can’t fault that.” He drawled. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you.” Satya poured a glass of wine and sipped it before turning back to him. “You seemed very unimpressed when I got here.” She noted. “Is there something wrong?”

McCree chuckled. “I got landed with the job of findin’ clothes for Rat to wear.”

Satya’s brows rose without her express permission. “Wear?”

“You’ve seen him recently, aintcha? Don’t think he owns more than those shorts. Angela made me go rustle up a proper shirt for him. Also told me neither of us are allowed dinner unless he’s clean.”

“Oh.” Satya sipped her wine. “That seems… wise. But you’ve left him alone now?”

“Naw, he’s in the corner, sulkin’.” McCree jerked a thumb over his shoulder and sure enough, there Junkrat was, curled into a ball in his chair, wearing a scowl and a button-down shirt.

“What happened to the clothes he was given in Numbani?” She asked, brow raised. “The ones he got when we went to lunch at the Sable. Surely he could have worn them.”

McCree seemed exasperated. “You’d _think_ so, but he doesn’t seem to know where they are.”

That made her laugh. “Somehow, that seems rather fitting.”

McCree tipped his drink in acknowledgement, and excused himself to go speak to Ana, who’d just arrived.

Satya told herself she really shouldn’t, but she drifted towards Junkrat’s corner of the room despite herself, and eventually ended up opposite him. He was alone for the moment, for Roadhog was filling a glass with wine at the drinks table, and he was fiddling with a grenade. Satya resisted the urge to sigh. He couldn’t even avoid bringing explosives to dinner.

“Hello.” She said quietly, and Junkrat’s gaze snapped up to meet hers. She sipped her drink for a moment. “You look very handsome tonight.” Her words had a playful tone to them, and she blinked for a moment. Satya did not know why she’d said that. Junkrat laughed, the sound subsiding into wheezing giggles before he pulled himself together, his expression a comical mix of thrilled and disbelieving. He did clean up well, she had to admit – the white dress shirt rolled to his elbows and black pants managed to be casual and dressy, even with the badly mismatched orange of his prosthetics, and the need to have one of his pant legs rolled to his knee. Even his hair had been brushed, and the effect was not wholly unattractive.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Cheers.” Junkrat sat up, a broad grin on his face as his gaze roamed over her. To her intense surprise, she found it made her feel rather warm, having his eyes on her. She immediately sank down in the nearest chair to make him stop looking at her _quite_ like that, but then realised she’d just trapped herself into conversation.

“Y’look nice.” He said with a grin, his gaze lingering at the hem of her skirt before travelling slowly upwards. “Real nice.”

“Thank you.” Satya said faintly, and then groped about for a new topic. “McCree tells me he had to wrestle you into new clothes.” She said for something to say, and Junkrat’s ears went pink.

“ _Wrestle_ -”

“What happened to the clothes you got in Numbani?”

Junkrat was quiet and very guilty for a moment, and Satya raised a brow, looked around to make sure no one else would overhear them, and lowered her voice.

“ _Jamie_. What did you do with them?”

It worked; the flush creeping over his skin increased and he looked guiltier. “I dunno, honest. Might be in me room, somewhere, might be in the workshop. Might’ve left ‘em in Numbani. Kinda forgot about them after I took ‘em off.”

Satya fixed him with a disapproving look. “Those were expensive, Jamison.”

“I know! I just – forgot.”

“Hmm.” Satya ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “Are you having a good Christmas?”

A very strange expression crossed his face then, and he leaned forwards, fingers tapping on the arm of the chair beside him. “‘S all roight, I ‘spose. Might have been nicer if I’d got a present from someone who said they would.” His voice was both accusatory and petulant, and Satya looked away to hide her smile.

“Did someone not get you a present?”

The fact that she was playing dumb made him pause and narrow his eyes, and he was clearly thinking back over his presents to double check.

“No. I checked. Y’didn’t.” He said finally, and Satya leaned back and arched a brow.

“Me?”

Junkrat nodded. “Y’didn’t get me anythin’.” His voice was accusatory now, with a hint of disappointment. “After all me hard work t’make _your_ present.”

“You think I didn’t get you anything?” Satya was enjoying herself immensely, and enjoyed his visible confusion even more.

“…Y’didn’t.” Junkrat’s words and look were cautious now.

“Didn’t I?”

“No.”

Satya took pity on him then. “It’s in the workshop. On your bench.” It was amazing how quickly delight overtook Junkrat’s expression.

“ _Really_?”

“Really.” She smiled at him and crossed her legs. “I take it you haven’t been to the workshop today.”

He shook his head, and the smile that overtook his lips was small but genuine, and very pleased. “Nope. Too busy openin’ presents an’ blowin’ up mines.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt and made a face. “An’ gettin’ roped into dressin’ up.”

“You’ll have to wait for me to get there before you open it.” She said, enjoying his mystified expression.

“Why? Y’forgotten what’s in there?”

She had to stifle a slight laugh. “No, but there is little point in you opening it without me, because you won’t know how to operate it.”

Junkrat’s eyes narrowed and he mumbled something under his breath, which only heightened his baffled air. “What is it?” He asked at last.

“You’ll just have wait and see, won’t you?”

Junkrat pouted, the expression comically exaggerated, and Satya laughed softly into her hand before taking another sip of her wine. The door opening caught her attention, and she was rather startled to find that the room had filled up while she wasn’t looking, and it made her want to stand up, as though sitting and talking to him was revealing in a way it shouldn’t be.

“I want to speak to Ana.” She said quietly. “But hopefully I will see you in the workshop later tonight.”

She left Junkrat looking thrilled, and wound her way through the furniture and around Torbjörn’s children and over to Ana, who was pouring herself a drink, impatiently pushing the tail of her hijab away as it threatened to end up in her glass.

“Good evening.” Ana said, her smile a little knowing in a strange way.

“Hello.” Satya sipped her wine for a moment. “You look nice.”

“Oh, thanks.” Ana grinned and chuckled slightly. “So do you.”

“Thank you.” Satya said warmly, looking down at her outfit.

Ana followed her gaze. “That’s a lovely skirt. Where did you get it?”

“A small village in Telangana.” Satya smoothed the dusky silk and smiled. “It is a favourite, though I am not able to wear it often.”

Ana’s smile grew wider. “I’d say you’re not the only one who likes it.” She finished this up with a pointed look behind her, and Satya looked over her shoulder to see Ana was referring to Junkrat, who was chatting animatedly to Hana.

Satya didn’t say anything, simply stared at Ana, completely unable to formulate a response. _What_ – was the older woman _implying_ something? Gods, perhaps she hadn’t been as inconspicuous as she’d thought. Unease made her fingers twitch but Satya managed to arrange her lips into a politely puzzled smile.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Her words were far too defensive to be believable, and Satya cursed that fact as she broke away from the main group and headed towards a more private part of the room, where she hoped they wouldn’t be overheard.

Ana took the hint and followed, an amused expression in her eye. “Don’t you?” She said when she’d caught up, voice lowered. “I’d say it’s fairly obvious.”

Satya fought to keep her expression neutral whilst trying desperately to figure out what to say.

When she said nothing further, Ana elaborated. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but it _is_ very obvious. To me, anyway. I’m not sure who else might have noticed.”

Satya said nothing as her horror grew.

“Sitting there, flirting with him just now-”

Satya finally found her tongue. “I was not _flirting_ -”

“-the way you look at him is very sweet-” Ana talked right over the top of her, looking like she was enjoying herself. “-and the way he looks at you is just _adorable!”_ The woman was putting on a sugary sweet tone, and Satya attempted to find a way to shut things down, but Ana’s words distracted her.

“I don’t _look_ at him-” Her voice sounded rather strangled, and she knew she was doing a very poor job of defending herself.

“Don’t you?” Ana sounded very amused. “My mistake.” She looked away to sip her wine and in the brief reprieve, Satya managed to gather her thoughts.

“Wait – stop. Please.” Satya tucked her hair behind her ear and lowered her voice. There wasn’t any point in denying it, not if Ana had picked up on this much. “I don’t know how much you know, but there isn’t any point to this. It’s only a silly… a silly _nothing_. It isn’t anything, and it won’t lead to anything.”

Ana smiled indulgently. “Don’t be such a downer. Give him a chance!”

Satya did her best to ignore the feelings of guilt and regret that pooled in her stomach. “I can’t.” She said fiercely. “Not even if I wanted to.” Satya looked down. “He isn’t the sort of man Vishkar would approve of.”

There was a brief silence, and Satya peeked up to see Ana frowning.

“…Vishkar? What do they have to do with it?”

“Everything.” Satya said shortly, and Ana’s eyes widened in realisation.

“Do they _screen_ your partners!?”

“ _Keep your voice down_.” Satya hissed, then collected herself, brushing her hair behind her ear again. “And no, not exactly. It’s just that, they… have certain opinions on who may or may not be good matches for their employees. They must take into account suitability, you know, and it isn’t any good if someone winds up in a relationship that distracts them from their work.”

“And Junkrat is a distraction?” Ana asked, brows raised.

“He is-” Satya hissed, feeling shaken by the turn the conversation had taken. It was the first time either of them had directly mentioned his name. “-an internationally wanted criminal. He is _worse_ than a distraction.” She took a sip of her wine to calm herself and clear her mind. “There is no point in discussing this further.” She said coldly. “Nothing will come of it, because it can’t.”

She left Ana with furrowed brows and pursed lips, and made her way back over to the snacks table, determined to distract herself. Once there, she caught sight of a pretty redhead rugged up warmly in a winter sweater.

“Hello.” She said, turning to face the redhead, Emily, who was Tracer’s girlfriend. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“No, we ‘aven’t!” Emily said, setting her glass aside and holding out her hand. “I’m Emily. Lena’s girlfriend.”

Satya smiled and set down her wineglass to shake hands with the young woman. “My name is Satya Vaswani, though if Tracer has mentioned me, she would have most likely called me Symmetra.”

Emily’s eyes were widening. “Oh, you’re Symmetra! Yeah, Lena’s mentioned you – _wait_.” Her eyes widened dramatically. “Satya Vaswani? The _architech_?”

Satya’s smile turned wry. “Yes. You’ve heard of me?”

“ _‘Eard_ of you?” Emily enthused. “I ‘ave magazines that you’re on the cover of at ‘ome! I’m an architecture student-” She explained. “-and we often study Vishkar’s architechs.” She laughed a little sheepishly. “Though I’m going to be a regular old architect, not as fancy as you.”

Satya tilted her head and offered the other woman a smile. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Did you know Vishkar has begun taking on architecture students on…” She paused. “What is it called in English? An exchange trip, I think?”

Emily eyes were wide as saucers. “Really! So any architecture students can study at Vishkar’s academy?”

 “Yes, they can. Provided they meet Vishkar’s rather vigorous standards, any architecture students can come and study at the academy.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “And if they are good enough, they can be offered a place to train as an architech.”

“Wow. That’s amazing! I’d love t’go.” Emily sighed.

Satya flexed her prosthetic fingers. “Well, if you ever decide that’s something you would be interested in doing, contact me. I can put in a good word for you.”

Emily bounced on her toes, clasping her hands together. “Really!? Thank you so much!”

“What’s this?” Tracer chirped from behind Emily, and Emily turned to grab her girlfriend’s arm and yank her closer.

“Lena! Satya – oops – may I call you Satya?” When Satya nodded, Emily ploughed enthusiastically on. “Satya says that if I ever decide to try going to the Vishkar academy, she can put in a good word for me!”

“Really?” Tracer put on a good show, but unease was clear in her eyes. It was obvious that she listened to Lúcio’s badmouthing of Vishkar. “That’s… great, love!”

“Isn’t it?” Emily beamed.

“My good word will only get you so far.” Satya cautioned. “My input will count for nothing if your grades aren’t good enough for you to be considered. Vishkar has high standards, let me warn you now.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem!” Tracer smiled fondly at Emily. “Em’s one smart cookie!”

Emily blushed and playfully pushed Tracer. “ _Lena_.”

At that moment, the door opened and Reinhardt poked his massive head in. “Dinner is served!” He boomed.

Satya joined the stream as they all trickled into the dining area, and gasped in surprise. The formerly clinical space had been transformed, with white tablecloths covering the metal tables, long wreaths wrought with holly and spangled with stars stretching across the walls, and over in the corner, mistletoe dangled from the ceiling. Satya made a pointed mental note to avoid that particular area.

Dinner was quite enjoyable; it was a veritable feast, and everyone complimented Reinhardt and Torbjörn on their cooking. There were giant roast turkeys, fat and well stuffed, and roast duck served with a really very nice gravy. Roast lamb dripping with mint sauce and surrounded by trays of vegetables were dotted in between bowls of salad, and things with unpronounceable names that were apparently traditional European Christmas dishes, and honestly, Satya hardly knew where to start.

The food was of course very good, though not entirely like anything she was used to. She chatted quietly to her neighbours (Mei on her left and Hanzo on her right) and occasionally joined in the conversation that was involving most of the table. Torbjörn’s children had their own table, from which the occasional child came over to speak to their parents. Dinner was merry and, with the help of a seemingly endless flow of wine, the atmosphere quickly became relaxed yet jubilant.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Satya turned to her right, where Hanzo was sitting.

“Of course.” She eyed a piece of roasted duck thoughtfully, then carefully sliced a piece and tried it. It was very good, though vastly different to the food she’d grown up with.

“I’m glad you came.” Hanzo took a bite of lamb and Satya eyed him curiously for a moment. That was a strange thing to say.

“Are you implying I might have decided to skip?”

He shrugged. “Aren’t you supposed to be avoiding social settings? Or don’t you have to anymore?”

Satya pursed her lips. “Yes, I’m still expected to keep my distance.”

“But you’ve been ignoring your directives.” Hanzo looked too satisfied.

She frowned at him. “I haven’t-” Satya considered things and pursed her lips unhappily for a moment. “Well. Perhaps.”

Hanzo grinned at her. “See?”

Satya frowned a bit harder. “I don’t see why everyone here dislikes Vishkar so much.” She said delicately, cutting another bite of duck. “We’ve done a lot of good in the world.”

Hanzo inclined his head. “…I won’t dispute that.”

Satya narrowed her eyes. “But you won’t agree, either. Not completely.”

Hanzo took a sip of his wine and avoided answering. “Have you got any buildings to design at the moment?” He asked idly, changing the subject completely.

“Not currently.” Satya pursed her lips for a moment, distracted by the new topic. “I haven’t yet been contacted for another. They probably wish me to concentrate on my duties here.”

Hanzo reached up and tightened the ribbon that bound his hair back. “Sensible of them.”

She knew he was implying _something_ , but couldn’t work out what, so she ignored it. “I suppose. At any rate, you know that already. I told you the day before yesterday, remember?”

Hanzo paused then nodded. “Hmm. I suppose I did. I must have forgotten.” He took another bite of lamb and nodded as he chewed and swallowed. “Are you liking dinner?”

“Of course. Torbjörn and Reinhardt have done an excellent job.” Satya took a bite of duck and then passed the jug of mint sauce over across the table to Mercy, who’d just asked for it.

“Hana’s enjoying herself.” Hanzo added drily, and Satya looked over to Hana, who was wearing a paper crown from a Christmas cracker and laughing loudly at the joke from inside it.

“I’d never have guessed.” Satya replied, equally as drily, and they both kept up the poker-face for a few seconds, and then they both grinned. Hanzo’s company really was very refreshing; Satya thoroughly enjoyed talking to him, even if she was of the opinion he was a little too much on Lúcio’s bandwagon when it came to Vishkar.

When dinner had finished and Athena and her bots were overseeing the clean-up, Satya meandered down the corridor, humming lightly to herself. She was not quite tipsy, but the wine had her feeling tranquil and pleasant, and she carried the prizes she’d won from her Christmas cracker, and wore a paper hat on her head. There was laughter up ahead and she passed McCree chortling as Hanzo told a story, and as she passed them she remembered Junkrat.

She’d said she’d go to the workshop, hadn’t she? Satya set off at once, though odds were, he’d probably forgotten and gone to bed or something. Reaching the doors, Satya hit the button and the doors hissed open to reveal Junkrat sitting in his chair, his still wrapped present front and centre. He looked up when she came in and grinned from ear to ear.

“G’day.”

“Hello.” Satya walked over to stand next to him, and gazed at the pristine wrapping paper. “You waited! I am impressed. I didn’t think you had the self-control.”

Junkrat sniggered. “Well, I almost didn’t. Y’came in at the roight time, I’ll tell ya that.”

Satya crafted a chair and sat down lightly, crossing her ankles. “Well, go on.”

Junkrat needed no further encouragement; he immediately grabbed the present and ripped the paper off, tossing it to the floor unceremoniously and making her wince slightly, for she was the type to spend half an hour carefully cutting the tape so the paper stayed intact. She threw the paper away afterwards so she knew there was little point, but… she couldn’t quite help herself.

Satya suppressed a smile as Junkrat’s brows drew together and he stared at the little white disc in his hand. His head titled to the side as he flipped it upside down and shook it.

“Is it… a…” He paused, then shook his head. “I got nuthin’. ‘S not a bomb, is it?”

“No, it’s not a bomb.” Satya replied, and took it from his hand to lie it flat on Junkrat’s workbench. “Give me your hand, please.” Junkrat looked confused for a moment, and put his metal fingers into hers. Satya sighed. “Your _other_ hand, Jamie.”

Junkrat laughed and gave her the correct hand, and she took his index finger and pressed it to the fingerprint scanner, and waited for a few seconds as the device scanned and stored his fingerprint. When it lit up blue, she released his hand and gave the metal disc a satisfied look. “There.”

“What the hell is it?” Junkrat absently rubbed his hand. “Why’d it need m’finger?”

“It was logging your fingerprint. Now, you’ll be the only person who can unlock it.”

Junkrat did nothing but slowly raise a brow. “Unlock what?”

Satya smiled at him warmly. “Go ahead and find out.”

As she watched him put his finger to the scanner, she began to feel nervous; what if this was the complete wrong thing to have done? What if he hated it, or worse, hated that she’d done it? Unlock complete, the disc activated the hologram, showing a family photo; a mother, a father, and a cheerful little blond boy sitting in between them, beaming at the camera with several missing baby teeth and freckles smattered over his nose. Junkrat had frozen solid, his eyes wide and his face stark white, and Satya stared at him anxiously, now suddenly convinced that she’d just done the worst thing she could have possibly done.

“Jamie-”

“Where’d you-” He swallowed and started again, voice hoarse, still staring at the hologram. “How’d y’get this?”

“I looked it up.” Satya said, a little uncertainly. “That is, I looked _you_ up. Jamison Fawkes, not Junkrat. I found your parents’ names, and your mother’s social media accounts are still up. I thought you might like to see some of the pictures.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at the hologram, and Satya was now firmly convinced she’d made a mistake.

“I’m sorry – I can deactivate it if you don’t want-”

“No.” Junkrat interrupted her, and then to her shock, he took a deep breath that sounded alarmingly like he was trying to suppress tears. “That’s – that’s Mum. That’s her. An’ Dad. Mum an’ Dad.” He giggled, a quiet and unsteady thing. “Haven’t seen ‘em since – since-”

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and Satya laid her hand over his.

“Christmas is supposed to be a time of family.” She said shyly. “So I thought perhaps you’d like to see yours.”

He turned towards her then, jaw clenched and hands trembling, tears glistening in his eyes. “Sorry.” He said with a harsh, forced laugh, and dragged his hand from hers to wipe roughly over his eyes. “Took me by surprise, I-” His words faltered as he looked back towards the cheerful, happy photo. “Haven’t seen ‘em since-”

Satya wasn’t entirely sure what made her do it, but the sight of him, utterly disarmed and clearly upset, made her reach out and touch his arm, making him turn towards her. Junkrat sniffled hard for a moment and then they both moved, and Satya found herself sitting there with his head buried in the crook of her neck and her arms around him. His fingers were clenched in the fabric of her top and she hoped to every God there was that he hadn’t been doing something with his bombs before she came in, because soot would be hell to get out of white lace, but her concern for her blouse was soon overshadowed by her concern for him.

Junkrat’s weight was warm and heavy against her, and she stroked her fingers through his hair, trying to help calm him down. His breathing was fast and erratic, his chest jerking as he tried to stifle the sobs, though the occasional one slipped through. Satya let him get his emotions out, content to just hold him until he felt better. The contact was not overly unpleasant, either; he was warm and solid and had this been happening under nicer circumstances, Satya found she’d have quite liked it.

When at last he felt composed enough to pull back, Satya examined his face; he was a bit pale and his eyes were red, but he looked calm again. Junkrat turned back to the photo, then raised his hand. His fingers passed through the hologram as he tried to touch his mother, and Satya’s insides twisted at the look of pain and frustration on his face.

“Jamie-” She began a bit hesitantly. He turned to look at her, so she had to keep going. “I hope you don’t think this is an invasion of your privacy. I really am so terribly sorry if you do, I just wanted to get you something nice-”

Junkrat stopped her when he offered her a grin and covered her hand with his to squeeze lightly, and rather than pull away, Satya let his hand stay where it was.

“Don’t apologise.” He said with a short laugh. “Was just shocked, is all. Weren’t expectin’ t’see Mum an’ Dad again.” He turned to look at the hologram again. “It’s just… it’s been a bloody long time.”

“I know it has.” Satya said quietly, and squeezed his fingers softly. “That’s why I did it. I thought you might like to keep it at your desk and then you can see them whenever you like.”

“This is… prob’ly the nicest thing anyone’s ever done fer me.” Junkrat said with a hint of awe in his tone. “Thank you.”

Satya wasn’t sure who moved first, but all of a sudden, their fingers seemed to be laced together and she realised with some degree of unsteadiness that she was effectively holding hands with Junkrat – and she was allowing it to happen.

She tried to find something to focus on and found it in a smudge of soot, barely noticeable, at his temple. It was half in his hairline, and it was fairly easy to see how McCree had missed it. Satya reached up reflexively, her metal thumb smoothing the soot away before she lingered there for a moment. The receptors in the pads of her fingers registered warmth and she could feel the pressure of his skin, but it was not the same, and she found herself wishing her left hand was flesh rather than metal. This was not a thought she had often and it surprised her, this visceral longing to feel his skin against hers.

At this realisation, Satya jerked her hand away and curled it into a fist in her lap. “I don’t understand how you end up so messy.” She said, partly to distracted herself, and Junkrat’s small yet pleased grin hitched into a smirk.

“‘S a talent.” He said, his words punctuated with a giggle.

“It certainly is.” Satya breathed with a smile, and his fingers flexed around hers.

She smiled at him and he grinned at her and he seemed to be drawing closer and so did she, and upon reflection, who knows what might have happened had Torbjörn not chosen that very moment to enter the workshop. Satya ripped her hand from Junkrat’s and managed to get halfway across the room before Torbjörn noticed either of them, for he was thoroughly invested in a conversation with his wife. In the same moment, Junkrat had hit the button on the little white disc and made the hologram picture of his parents wink out.

“Ah, Symmetra, Junkrat. How did you like the dinner?” Torbjörn beamed, and they both applauded the meal. If either of the Swedish couple noticed Junkrat’s red eyes or that Satya had been walking away from him, neither of them mentioned it.

Satya wished everyone a Merry Christmas and quickly left the room, heading back towards the barracks. She sat down at her desk and played absently with the ends of her hair. She’d only just let her thoughts go back to the workshop when her phone buzzed. Picking it up, Satya saw that Junkrat was calling her. She furrowed her brow and stared at it for a moment, but answered it anyway, against the wishes of the little voice in the back of her mind that wore a Vishkar uniform.

“Hello?”

“G’day.” Junkrat sounded pleased in a way she couldn’t quite describe. “Thought I’d give y’a ring, seein’ as Torb interrupted.”

“That’s fair.” Satya got up and went over to her bed, relaxing into her pillows. Actually, she rather liked the idea of talking to him over the phone. It meant she didn’t have to monitor her facial expressions or body language. Not to mention, she didn’t have to keep track of his. She decided to disregard the fact that Vishkar would most certainly not approve of conversations with no purpose.

“Listen – I wanted t’say thanks.” Junkrat’s voice dropped, becoming serious. “Properly, I mean. Didn’t really get the chance before.” He laughed quietly. “Caught me off guard good an’ proper, y’did. Ain’t too many people can say that.”

Satya smiled. “I got the drop on Jamison Fawkes? There’s something to put on my resume.”

His giggle was high pitched, entertained, and contagious to the point where Satya was smiling broadly just to hear him. “Funny lookin’ resume, there.” He said, and she nodded, though no one could see her.

“You’re right. I doubt Vishkar would think highly of that particular qualification.” A thought occurred to her then. “Wait. Are you still in the workshop? Did Torbjörn and Klara leave?”

“Nah – oh, well, I dunno. I left before they did. In m’room now.”

“Ah.”

“Sat… why’d y’do it?”

She couldn’t deny what he meant. “It was Torbjörn’s fault.” She admitted. “He made me think of family.”

“That’s not much of an answer.”

Something like irritation bubbled up within her. She didn’t want him to question her, because that meant she’d have to confront herself.

“I felt like doing something nice. It is Christmas, after all.” She snapped, then winced. The harshness of her tone had been uncalled for.

Junkrat was quiet for a long moment. “Roight. Okay.”

Satya sighed slightly, annoyed at him for asking and at herself for not knowing how to express herself properly. “I do mean it, Jamie.” She said softly. “I wanted to do something nice.”

There was a pause, and then Junkrat’s voice held a note of pure joy. “Well, y’did.”

The satisfaction in his tone made her smile. “I am glad. I thought for a horrible moment that you’d hate it.”

Junkrat giggled. “Nah. Couldn’t possibly. Y’showed me Mum an’ Dad. Can’t get mad over that. Complete opposite, if y’wanna know.”

“It wasn’t that – it was more over an invasion of your privacy. You don’t seem like someone who is private, but you hide it very well.”

“Private, ay?”

Satya nodded to herself. “Remind me again who else knows your real name?”

He laughed again, and it made her smile. “Got me there, Sat.” Junkrat paused, and his voice dropped down into something serious. “But how’d y’find Mum an’ Dad by lookin’ _me_ up? Am I on government lists an’ shit? Filthy bastards.”

The outrage in his tone made her laugh out loud, and she got a sheepish sort of snicker back. “Yes, you are, and with quite an extensive rap sheet attached.” Satya had deliberately avoided looking too long at all the things he’d been charged with, because she didn’t really want to know the details. She knew the gist of what his life had been like, and that was enough for her. “They have everything. Your full name, your date of birth, your closest relatives-”

Junkrat cut her off. “M’date of birth?” He sounded fascinated. _“Really?”_

“Why would you not think they’d have that?” Satya asked with furrowed brow, relaxing further back into her pillows. She absently slipped the patch from her pocket and began turning it around in her fingers. “Birth certificates are fairly standard items, you know, and you were born before the omnium exploded.”

“Oh yeah.” Junkrat sounded a bit contemplative, like this was something he’d never considered. “I guess I’d have a birth certificate. Makes sense. Still, they ain’t got no roight t’keep it. ‘S kinda strange t’think of, but.” He paused. “So that’s like a form or somthin’ they do when yer born, roight? Do they… d’ya know if they happen t’do put dates on them thingos? Like… a date that y’saw?”

Part of her went to remind him that she’d already said she’d seen his birth date, but abruptly, Satya realised what he was driving at. “Jamison… do you mean to say you don’t know your date of birth?”

There was a pause. “Uh… no. I don’t.” His tone changed to something defensive. “Y’know I was just a little kid. Kids are shit with dates.”

Satya took a moment to get her head around that, and then realised something else. “Jamie… do you know how old you are?”

There was an even longer pause. “No.” He finally said, voice sullen. Satya didn’t let herself think about the kind of circumstances he must have endured that would have led to him not even knowing his own age.

“My Gods…” She murmured softly in Telugu. It had been a stroke of luck to find him – as a wanted criminal, his records (along with Roadhog’s and that of other Junkers) were available online as part of an effort to have people potentially recognise the information and be able to turn them in. The thing was, she hadn’t realised that she wasn’t the only one who didn’t know. “I’ll find your file again and tell you tomorrow, if you like.” She offered. “I can’t remember the precise date, but I’m fairly sure it said two thousand and fifty-one. Your year of birth, that is.”

 _“Really?”_ He sounded fascinated.

“Yes.” Satya confirmed. “If I’m remembering correctly, you would be twenty-five years old.”

“Twenty-five? Huh.” Junkrat mumbled something to himself. “Well, whadaya know. Always figured it was somethin’ round about there. Didn’t think I’d have been much older, an’ I’ve been thinkin’ I’d have t’be older than at least twenty for a while now…”

Satya frowned to herself as he rambled. Twenty-five. He was three years younger than she was. Somehow, she’d never really considered him as having an age before. He just seemed to… exist. A tall and dirty goblin from the wastelands of Australia was the general impression he gave off (helped along by his general aura of lunacy), and goblins didn’t have things like mortal ages. It made him seem much more real, all of a sudden.

“You’re very young.” She teased, and she almost heard him blink.

“Young? What – how old are _you?”_

“I am twenty-eight.” Satya replied primly, and got a low whistle in response.

“Twenty-eight?” His accent sort of slurred the way he said ‘twenty’, making it sound like ‘twenny-eight’ instead. “Well, shit. Lookin’ good fer almost thirty.”

Satya raised a brow and deliberately inhaled so that he could hear it. “You’re very lucky you aren’t in the same room as me, Jamison Fawkes.” She said severely, and he giggled hysterically in response. “ _Almost thirty?_ I ought to-”

“Ought t’what, Satya?” Junkrat prompted when she trailed off, and all of a sudden she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Gods, when had the conversation become suggestive, of all things? And why had he said her name like that, low and _, damn_ him, tantalising?

“I… ought to…” Good Gods, all she could think of was inflicting punishment, but something told her that was exactly what he wanted her to say.

“Yeah?” Junkrat prompted again, his voice still deep and, Gods help her, provocative. Her imagination ran off in directions it most certainly shouldn’t have, and she drew her metal arm close about her torso.

It occurred to her that she had absolutely nothing to say. She must have hesitated for too long, because Junkrat stepped in to fill the silence.

“Sounds like what McCree says when y’flog his hat.” Junkrat giggled and put on a terrible southern accent. “ _What in tarnation? Where’s me hat? Junkrat!_ _Why, I oughta…”_

Satya laughed at his poor imitation. “I’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear it.”

Junkrat’s laughter shot up an octave as he cackled. “I reckon!”

Satya stifled a yawn into the palm of her hand, but Junkrat detected it anyway.

“Tired?”

“Mmm, yes.” She said, twisting about slightly to see her clock and grimacing when she realised it was past midnight. “I’m already in bed; all I have to do is go to sleep.”

Junkrat’s giggle sounded a bit forced. “In bed, ay? This whole time?”

The strained edge to his voice confused her until she realised what it might mean and what he might be imagining, and a slow smile curved her mouth. “Yes, and it’s very annoying, don’t you think, to be comfortable in bed, but have to get up to change?”

Junkrat laughed again. “That’s when y’take a leaf outta my book, an’ don’t get changed.”

That distracted her. “ _No_.” Satya said dramatically. “Tell me you don’t sleep in those shorts. _Tell me_ you don’t.”

He snickered delightedly. “Nah, I don’t.”

Satya relaxed. “Thank the Gods. I thought you were about to tell me you don’t own pyjamas.” What she was getting at, of course, was that her thoughts were entirely based around the horrible idea of his only owning one single solitary item of clothing, and so didn’t even notice what she’d just set herself up for.

“I don’t.” Junkrat’s voice was low and very self-satisfied, and Satya frowned, momentarily not understanding.

“You don’t? Then what do you – _oh_.” Heat rushed into her cheeks and she blushed ferociously as Junkrat’s delighted snicker echoed in her ear. He didn’t wear anything to bed. He just shucked off his shorts and slept naked – she needed to stop that train of thought this instant. Satya thought hard about building codes for a moment, but the enticing mental picture of his body got through her defences anyway, all lean sinew and taut muscle, flexing in dim light as he unbuttoned his shorts… Satya blushed harder and thanked as many Gods as she could think of that Junkrat wasn’t in the room with her. She couldn’t _stand_ the thought of him seeing her blush, and over him, too.

“That wasn’t fair.” She said snippily. “You set me up.”

“Ay? How’d I do that?”

“You tricked me into thinking about your shorts.”

There was a noise that sounded like stifled laughter. “There’s a lot of things I could say t’that, but I ain’t gonna, mainly ‘cause I’m the kinda bloke who likes all his bits an’ pieces where he’s got ‘em.”

Damn him, that wasn’t a helpful mental picture either.

“Smart of you.” Satya replied evenly.

“Hn, very.” Even his pauses could sound delighted. “So what are yer plans for tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Satya glanced at the calendar she had on the wall. She didn’t technically use it – she had her phone and tablet for proper logging of appointments – but she liked having a physical version on the wall for instant confirmations rather than having to open an app. “It’s Saturday, so I’ll sleep in, as per usual, and then I’ll be in the workshop. We don’t have any briefings scheduled, so it’ll be a normal day.”

“Sleep in?” Junkrat sounded amazed. “Didn’t think y’knew the meanin’ of the word.”

Satya snorted. “Please.” She paused for a moment. “Granted, I don’t sleep in very much – I let myself stay in bed until six-thirty instead of six.”

She could almost hear him grimace. “Ugh.”

“I run in the mornings.” She said as an explanation. “Waking up at that time lets me run and still have enough time to get ready for work.”

“Ugh.” He said again.

“From that I assume you just crawl out of bed and head to wherever you’re going that day?”

“Mmm, if I make it t’bed.”

Satya frowned. “Don’t tell me you stay in the workshop all night on a regular basis, Jamison.”

He half chuckled. “Don’t always mean it, y’know. I get all caught up in me bombs an’ I forget what time it is.”

“That isn’t very good for you.” She scolded lightly, and Junkrat giggled.

“Don’t hafta tell _me_ that _._ Merc’s been on me case about it fer ages.”

“Good. You should listen to her.”

“Hn, maybe.” From his tone of voice, it was immediately clear that he had no intention of listening.

Satya rolled her eyes briefly and then caught sight of the clock, to which she grimaced. “I’m going to go to bed now, Jamison.” She said. “If I don’t sleep soon, I won’t be able to function in the morning.”

Junkrat giggled again. “Roighto. G’night, Sat.”

“Goodnight.” Satya hung up and spent a few moments on her bed, smiling at the ceiling. A moment later and she frowned at herself. Gods, how had the person she could talk to so easily become _Junkrat_ , of all people? Satya sighed and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. She was breaking so many rules with this, but she didn’t see any other way around it. Sanjay had warned her off making friends and indulging in purposeless conversation, and she understood where he was coming from, of course, but she didn’t seem to be able to help herself. Certain individuals aside, no matter how frosty her tone was or how standoffish her behaviour was, they all still talked to her and treated her like one of their own.

The people of Overwatch, she had decided, were too nice for their own good.

She’d pushed Junkrat – and everyone – away but had ended up right where she’d been the first time. Satya _liked_ (just about) everyone here, she genuinely did, and it was just so unpleasant to have to skulk about and not speak to anyone unless it was for a project. She had noticed the loneliness before, of course, but it had never struck her as hard as it did now, and she was finding the thought of returning to Vishkar when her time at Overwatch was up relieving… but also rather disheartening.

Satya told herself she was being ridiculous, and of course there were aspects of Vishkar she was looking forwards to – the routine was nice and settled and she vastly preferred it to the bumbly sort of ‘do-whatever-you-like-until-training-and-missions’ attitude that was employed at the watchpoint. At Vishkar, every second of every day was mapped out and accounted for, and while sometimes it could get a little exhausting, Satya liked the structure of it.

She didn’t exactly miss the people – while it was true that she missed seeing others like herself, who spoke her language and held similar views, she’d never really gotten close enough to anyone to make the connection worthwhile. Her ex’s floated through her mind – Imran, well, she didn’t care if she never saw him again. Ranveer she always thought of with a hint of wistfulness as to what could have been, and her memories of Prithviraj were too distant now to do more than conjure up faint sparks of a curious attraction and a feeling of warmth. The rest of her relationships had been essentially non-existent – Satya hadn’t really had friends, hadn’t had other women to shop with or meet for coffee. She’d had co-workers, and in twelve years had only moved beyond that three times, and for two of those times, there had barely been a physical side to it. Satya pursed her lips. She was not in the habit of thinking that her life thus far had been a disappointment (when she compared it to what it could have been if Vishkar had not found her, she tended to think she’d been handed a miracle), but she couldn’t deny that sometimes, she wished Vishkar could be a bit more… open.

It was all Overwatch’s fault – before coming here, she’d thought how it was at Vishkar was standard of any organisation, and had expected Overwatch to be, as essentially a military operation, cold and impersonal. Exactly what she was used to. Instead, she’d been dumped headlong into a dysfunctional family made up of the strangest combination of individuals she’d ever seen, and to her amazement, they seemed to want _her_ as well – they wanted her as a part of that family.

It was growing very hard to resist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was definitely one of my favourite chapters to write 
> 
> Jamie especially had a Very Good Day


	47. Diminutive Genius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Boxing Day and Junkrat is having a mostly good time

Junkrat was in a very good mood.

Boxing day was going fairly well – he’d woken up mid-morning, jazzed that he’d fallen back asleep after waking up at two o’fuckin’-clock in the morning from nightmares. Nightmares were a common occurrence for him – his mind was fond of revisiting all the horrible shit he’d left behind in the Outback, much to his disgust. It was part of the reason why he often stayed up till the wee hours or pulled an all nighter – you couldn’t have a nightmare if you didn’t sleep. Junkrat had peeled himself up out of bed and gone through all his Christmas presents again, amazed at the concept of having new belongings that had been given to him, no strings attached, and hadn’t been stolen, either. It was pretty wild, if he had to tell the truth.

He’d spent a solid half hour staring at the hologram of his parents Satya had given him.

It was – incredible. Astonishing. He’d never imagined that pictures of his parents would still exist, or even where to find them. The sight of them was intoxicating, and he could have drunk them in for hours. It was like seeing a movie again for the first time in years – once dim and fuzzy recollections, the faces of his Mum and Dad were now _right there_ , clear as day. They were in his mind in high definition, and it was incredible.

He hadn’t been at all prepared for it, and part of him was a bit annoyed Satya hadn’t warned him at all about what exactly he’d been about to see. When that hologram had booted up and he’d realised what it was, it had felt like his heart had fallen down to his toes and he’d been given a solid kick in the guts for good measure.

There they were, with him in the middle. It was strange seeing himself like that – he reckoned he looked about five or six, so the photo had been taken at least a year before his parents died and his life had gone to shit – but it was really fuckin’ weird seeing himself as a happy little kid without a care in the world, grinning up into the camera, his left hand held tightly by his mother and his right by his father.

His dad looked confident and proud, the grin on his tanned and weather-beaten face matching with his battered Akubra. His mother wore the smile that came to him sometimes in more pleasant dreams, sweet and welcoming, her long blonde hair settling round her shoulders. Junkrat had stared at them long enough that the hole their absence had left in his heart began to ache, and he’d sniffled hard and blinked moisture out of his eyes, before slipping the little disc into his satchel and buckling it firmly closed. It had instantly become one of his top three most treasured possessions.

Next on his boxing day agenda had been breakfast, which he had brought back with him to the workshop. For Christmas, Lúcio had given him a mixtape that was a blend of Lúcio’s music and stuff that Lúcio knew Junkrat liked, and since no one else was in the workshop, he’d plugged it in, gotten Athena to crank the volume up to max, and was jamming on his air guitar over the top of schematics for his bombs and a half-eaten plate of snags.

_Love is like a bomb, baby, c’mon get it on  
Living like a lover with a radar phone_

Lúcio had introduced him to this song during an afternoon where the DJ, declaring it a crime that Junkrat didn’t really know much about music, had shown him important musical moments from just about every decade since music had been recorded. Junkrat didn’t recall a great deal of what Lúcio had told him, but he did remember his favourite examples, and this was one of them.

_Lookin’ like a tramp, like a video vamp  
Demolition woman, can I be your man?_

Junkrat really liked the song, but he loved the first verse in particular. He was pretending to play the guitar solo when, as he spun dramatically around, he realised he was no longer alone. With a yelp of surprise, Junkrat jumped backward, his peg leg connecting with some paper discarded on the floor, and he slipped arse over turkey, landing on the floor with a loud ‘oof!’

Rubbing his now sore backside, Junkrat looked up sheepishly at Satya and Hanzo. Satya was clearly laughing, her fingers pressed against her mouth, her other arm crossed over her body to hold her elbow, while Hanzo had simply raised a brow, though he looked amused. Junkrat grimaced theatrically and pulled himself to his feet. From his spot on Torbjörn’s workbench, Mullock yawned comfortably and went back to sleep. Junkrat frowned at the cat; he could show a little more concern.

“Whadaya doin’, sneakin’ up on a bloke for?” He shouted over the loud music. “Scared the shit outa me!”

Satya lowered her hand, though amusement still curved her lips. “We didn’t mean to.” She said, raising her voice to be heard. “All we did was walk inside.”

“Feh.” Junkrat eyed them both with a frown and turned his attention to the music – great as the song was, it wasn’t very good as the background of a conversation. After turning it down until it was playing very softly, he turned back to Satya, who was still smiling indulgently. Hanzo looked as stoic as ever. They seemed to be hanging out more and more often these days – they often sat together at dinner, talking about fuck knows what. Junkrat didn’t really like the thought of Hanzo monopolising Satya’s attention, though he was quite sure it was strictly a platonic thing. _He_ wanted to talk to her, damn it. Couldn’t do that when she was talking philosophy and shit with the archer. It was even worse when the bot joined in, too.

“Do you do that a lot?” She asked, and he knew she meant the dancing and air guitaring, not the falling on his arse-ing.

Junkrat felt his cheeks redden slightly and he dragged his hand through his hair. “Uh. Sometimes.”

Her smile ticked up at the edges, becoming wry. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. M’fine.” Junkrat mustered up a grin. “Y’busy?”

“We’re doing an experiment.”

Junkrat raised a brow, and Hanzo elaborated. “We’re going to see if hard light can be used to make my arrows.”

“Roighto. Sounds fun.” Junkrat reached for a half-done grenade and popped the side off it, barely thinking about it as he looked about for a screwdriver. Satya and Hanzo headed over to her workbench and were soon locked in discussion about hard light and arrows, using the most complicated and incomprehensible language possible.

Roughly an hour later, Junkrat was distracted from the innards of a concussion mine by an announcement over the loudspeakers. Athena’s voice echoed overhead, and Junkrat scowled at the interruption.

“All agents report to the lab for a briefing. Repeat, all agents to the lab in five minutes for a briefing.”

Junkrat scowled at nothing in particular and for a moment considered skipping the briefing. He wanted to work on his mine, dammit. A glance at Satya told him she was similarly displeased at Athena’s timing, as she sighed slightly and let the cool blue of an incomplete construct fade into nothingness. Hanzo said something to her as he examined one of the hard light arrows she’d made earlier, and then they both stood and made for the door.

While Hanzo was occupied with opening the door, Satya turned, and Junkrat was surprised to find her glancing at him.

“You’re not coming?” She asked, and Hanzo turned to look over his shoulder, brows raised.

Junkrat shrugged. “Eh, guess I hafta, if I don’t want the monkey breathin’ down me neck.” He pushed himself to his feet and slouched towards them, and for a while all was quiet as they headed down the hall, save that Hanzo was giving him a few funny looks. When Junkrat had counted four of these looks, he raised a brow and his shoulders in a ‘what?’ gesture, only to see Hanzo’s mouth thin.

Satya didn’t appear to notice, which was just as well, and Junkrat made sure to sit far away from Hanzo when they reached Winston’s lab, eyeing the archer suspiciously. Roadhog arrived and sat down not long after, and Junkrat informed him of Hanzo’s odd behaviour in muttered bursts, and soon Hog was also gazing at Hanzo warily. Hanzo didn’t pull any funny business though, just sat next to McCree waiting for Winston to start, so both Junkers relaxed infinitesimally as the briefing began.

“What’s up, Winston?” Tracer chirped from a chair at the front of the room. “Another mission?”

“No...” Winston mumbled distractedly, before he repositioned his glasses and began properly. “Has anyone seen what’s been happening in Numbani?”

The response was mixed; like some, Junkrat had no clue what was happening, but from nearby Ana made an ‘ah’ noise, like everything now made sense. He sure wished he had her insight. Fortunately, Winston decided to elaborate.

“This morning, there was an incident at the Numbani airport. Several OR15 units were destroyed by person or persons unknown, and… the Doomfist gauntlet has been stolen.”

This pronouncement was followed by shock. Junkrat couldn’t believe his own ears – after all the effort they’d put in to keep the bloody thing safe, and it just up and gets stolen? He added his voice to the other protestations filling the room, and subsided to muttering under his breath when Winston held up a hand for silence.

“From what I understand-” the ape continued “-the gauntlet was being moved to a more secure holding space when it was stolen. It’s not confirmed but rumours are circulating that a new Doomfist was the one who attacked the OR15 units at the airport. No civilian casualties, but the OR15’s were demolished.”

This sounded quite peculiar to Junkrat. He couldn’t quite remember what OR15’s were, but if there were no people hurt… was OR15 a military title? What was going on.

He leaned across and muttered his question to Hoggie, and when Roadhog inclined his head and informed him that OR15’s were omnics, Junkrat’s lips curled in disgust. Bots!? Why did anyone care what had happened to them? So someone – this Doomfist bloke – had destroyed a bunch of bots? _Obviously_ he was the good guy, so why did the others look so grave? He opened his mouth to speak but Roadhog (with his superhuman senses) elbowed him roughly to make him shut up.

Junkrat’s mouth snapped shut and he listened instead, and gradually the story came out – this new Doomfist bloke was linked to Talon, and though he’d destroyed a bunch of bots, which made him alright in Junkrat’s book, he also posed a threat to Numbani itself, which was more of a problem, Junkrat supposed.

The meeting dragged on too long for Junkrat to remain attentive throughout the whole thing; it wasn’t a mission briefing, it was a discussion on the Doomfist gauntlet and what the repercussions of its theft would be, and as he wasn’t being directly addressed (and there was no mention of him blowing anything or anyone up), his mind began to wander. It was not something that he could help; most of the time, Junkrat wasn’t even aware of the fact he’d tuned out, his mind choosing to focus on something like his fingers tapping against his leg, examining the rough stitching on his trousers, fiddling with a half-done bomb (if he was lucky enough to have one on him), counting heads or idly daydreaming about a new design for his mines. He couldn’t help his short attention span or his brain’s tendency to drift out of focus – it just happened – but he could usually get on all right by asking Hog what had happened, for he would have only ‘woken up’ at the end of the meeting, not realising that he’d stopped paying attention an hour and a half ago.

It could certainly be annoying sometimes, especially if he got asked a question when he’d been out of it for the last half hour; 76, the bastard, enjoyed putting people on the spot when he knew they weren’t paying attention. Luckily for Junkrat, Winston was leading the briefing today, and Winston didn’t pull that kind of shit, so Junkrat’s inattention went unnoticed by all apart from Roadie, probably.

Junkrat followed Roadhog down to the hangar when the briefing had concluded and they’d all been dismissed; the hangar was where Hog spent the majority of his time when he wasn’t following Junkrat about like his ever-present shadow or challenging Reinhardt in the gym. Tracer’s dropship occupied a large portion of the hangar, as did the rest of the Overwatch vehicles, which were neatly lined up in parking bays against one wall. Hana’s MEKA was also kept there, alongside a very large thing, almost like a shipping container, which held all of her equipment and spare parts. Roadhog’s pride and joy, the reason that he haunted the hangar, was kept on the other side of the hangar, near the other (admittedly few) private vehicles.

Junkrat sprawled on the floor near Roadhog’s open toolbox (apparently the briefing had interrupted an oil change and general check-up), and began to chatter away.

“So what was the point of all that, ay?” Junkrat inquired from where he lay on his back, asking his question of the lofty ceiling.

Roadhog grunted slightly and wiped the dipstick on an oily cloth. “Numbani’s under threat, they reckon. Doomfist.”

“Oh, yeah, the uh, those bots he killed.” Junkrat’s brow furrowed. “They sure he’s a bad guy?”

“Reckon he’s with Talon.”

“Hmm. Whadaya reckon?”

“Don’t reckon it means a whole lot.” Roadie reached for the oil and carefully began to refill his bike. “Said there was three of ‘em.”

That caught Junkrat’s attention. “What? Three? Three of what?”

“Doomfist.” Hog put down the oil and wiped the excess away before replacing the cap. “Three of ‘em. One of ‘em was decent, too.”

“ _Three_ Doomfists?” Junkrat half sat up. “Then how d’they know which one this is?”

Roadhog merely shrugged, more occupied with checking the radiator.

Junkrat whistled briefly when he couldn’t get Roadie’s attention back. “Oi, Hog. Don’t that mean they might be panickin’ for nuthin’?”

“Yep.” Roadhog stood up and headed towards the shelves of oil, anti-freeze, wiper fluid and other essentials that Junkrat couldn’t put a purpose to, leaving him to furrow his brow in thought. _Three_ Doomfists – and one of them had been a good guy. For all they knew, that bloke could be just here to get his mantle back – the destruction of the bots seemed to suggest that. Junkrat nodded, perfectly happy with his hypothesis, forgetting completely that in Numbani, omnics were not evil or second class citizens – they were on par with regular human people, and their utter annihilation was an act of terror, not justice. Something else he hadn’t stopped to consider? These particular omnics, these OR15’s, had been developed to protect Numbani – and their destruction indicated that this Doomfist might have very similar plans in place for the rest of the city.

Abruptly, he remembered that he hadn’t shown Hog the hologram yet, and he rolled over and sat up so fast his head spun.

“Oi, Roadie. Hog. _Hoggie!_ Look! _”_

Roadhog finally turned around and Junkrat hastily stuck his hand into his satchel and fished about for the hologram. He triumphantly held the little white disc aloft and then realised with some horror that there were smudges on it, and he forgot about Roadhog in favour of rubbing it vigorously on his shorts.

Footsteps sounded behind him and then before he could react, Roadhog snatched the disc out of his hands. Junkrat yelped and shot to his feet to snatch it back, but Roadhog held it out of reach, his air menacing.

“This is hard light. You flog it from her?” Roadhog’s voice was flat and suspicious, and Junkrat flushed.

“Fuckin’ – _no_! She gave it t’me!”

Roadhog examined the hologram carefully, but evidently came up with nothing.

“What is it?”

“M’chrissy present.” Junkrat growled, now being held at arm’s length after attempting to physically climb Roadhog’s person to reach the disc. “Give it _back_ , y’bastard.”

Hog eyed him for a moment, then held out the disc, which Junkrat snatched from his palm as fast as he could, before dropping to the floor and checking it for damage.

“ _Fuckin’_ – d’ya know what she got me?” He demanded, and when Roadhog sighed and replied that _obviously_ he didn’t, Junkrat bristled and, after checking that the hangar was still empty of other people, pressed his thumb to the sensor.

Roadhog went very still when the hologram activated, taking in the sight of Junkrat and his parents for a long, quiet moment.

“That who I think it is?” Came the cursory question.

“Yeah.” Junkrat’s voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “She found ‘em. Mum an’ Dad.”

Roadhog eyed the hologram for another moment, then shook his head. “She really _does_ like ya.”

Junkrat’s grin went silly, but he couldn’t quite help it. “Yeah?”

“She’s got bad taste, if y’ask me.” Roadhog picked up his oil rag and headed back towards his bike as Junkrat bristled and scurried after him.

“Get _fucked_ -”

At that moment, Tracer appeared as the doors to the hangar hissed open, and Junkrat deactivated the hologram and shoved it in his pocket at the speed of light.

“Wotcher, Rat!” She called, before Roadhog straightened up from where he was out of sight, and got a cheery wave from the brit.

“G’day!” Junkrat replied, hoping she hadn’t seen the disc.

Tracer blipped to his side in a flash of blue light and grinned at him. “Whatcha guys doin’?” She asked, eyeing whatever Hog was doing to the innards of his bike with interest.

Junkrat shrugged easily. “Nuthin’ much.”

“Cool.” Tracer jerked her thumb over her shoulder, looking hopeful. “I’ve lost my phone somewhere. You guys seen it?”

Junkrat shook his head. “Nah. Roadie?”

Roadhog shook his head as well, and Tracer frowned. “Damn. Can y’let me know if ya ‘appen to see it?”

“Sure, mate.” Junkrat replied, and after Tracer had done a few speedy laps of the hangar and left again, on a quest to find her phone.

Once the door had closed behind her, Junkrat turned back to Roadhog. “Y’think she saw it?” He asked anxiously.

Roadhog lifted his head briefly. “Nah.” He said shortly, then ducked back into the engine of his bike. Junkrat knew that look; Hoggie was getting invested, and that was a sure sign that Junkrat was wasting his breath if he kept talking.

A’ight, gonna go back t’the workshop. Later, Hoggie.”

Roadhog grunted in acknowledgement and kept tinkering, so Junkrat headed off. He reached the workshop not long after, and having sequestered himself beneath his workbench, he activated his hologram, greedily drinking in the sight of his parents. He didn’t really know how long he sat there for, but he found himself jumping out of his skin when a shape appeared at his periphery.

Satya was crouched at the edge of his workbench, one hand gripping the tabletop to keep her balance, a cross between concern and amusement on her face.

“Are you all right?” She asked.

Junkrat stared at her, gaze owlish. “Uh.” He said, and looked back to the hologram.

“I saw the light.” She said in explanation. “ _Are_ you okay?”

“‘M fine.” He mumbled, and deactivated the hologram, before being kind of surprised to see a smile curving the edges of her mouth.

Satya held out her hand. “Would you like to see the others?”

Junkrat started and whacked his head on the underside of the bench. “ _Fuck_.” He rubbed his head and glowered at the bench for a moment, before her words sank in. “Others?”

“There’s more.” Satya smiled at him, her hand still extended. “I picked that one for your hologram, but your mother had quite a few posted.”

 _Oh_.

“There’s more?” He asked, somewhat hoarsely.

“Quite a few. Would you like to see?”

Junkrat slipped his hand into hers. “Yeah.”

Satya didn’t drop his hand until they were halfway across the room, when she looked over her shoulder with a brief, embarrassed half-smile. It made him feel positively giddy.

Satya stopped at her workbench and leaned against it, so Junkrat did the same, folding his arms while his fingers twitched impatiently.

“So these photos.” He asked. “How many, d’ya reckon?”

“I wouldn’t know off the top of my head.” Satya replied, busy weaving a hard light tablet. “Quite a lot, I think.”

“Ah.” Junkrat ducked his head and scuffed at the floor with his peg. There was a strange feeling in his chest – like something squeezing at his lungs. There were more pictures – he could see his mum and dad again.

Satya finished crafting the tablet and started flicking through it, during which Junkrat only felt antsier. Finally, she handed the tablet to him, and his breath left him with a _whoosh_.

There they were. Mum and Dad.

The first photo was of their wedding day and it made his stomach hurt to see them, younger than he remembered, and looking so happy. The second was of his exhausted looking but ecstatic mother in a hospital bed, cradling a blanket wrapped infant. That one made his breath catch. Junkrat flicked through each one, drinking them in. There were pictures of his parents together, pictures chronicling his infancy and more of him playing, sitting with his mother, on his father’s lap, being held by an older man with grey hair.

Junkrat blinked and paused on that one, and Satya leaned in slightly.

“Do you know him?” She asked, and he furrowed his brow.

“Dunno. Don’t think so.”

“Hmm. A grandparent, maybe? Your father looks a little like him.”

“Mm.” Junkrat nodded, and the longer he looked, the more he thought Satya was probably right. It made him feel weird. “That’s prob’ly m’granddad.” He looked up at her, disbelief written on his features. “I got a _granddad?”_

Satya’s lips curled into a smile. “Everyone does.”

“I guess. Never really thought about grandparents.” Junkrat furrowed his brow, set the tablet on the bench and scrubbed his hand over his face. He couldn’t _remember_.

“Well.” Satya took a step closer and picked up the tablet, then put it back into his hands. “Take this. You needn’t be in a hurry to think about things. Take your time.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “There’s a woman there as well, in some other photos. You might just have a grandmother too.”

Junkrat blinked, his mouth slightly ajar. “A grandma?” He shook his head briefly. “This is fuckin’ _nuts_ -”

Satya’s smile widened. “Keep the tablet. Consider it a second Christmas present.”

Junkrat looked up at that, and eyed her for long enough that her smile turned to discomfort.

“Is there something wrong?” She asked, a hint of anxiety in her tone. “You don’t want it?”

Junkrat reflexively clutched the tablet to his chest. “I want it.” He growled, then blinked and took a step closer to her. “Y’real nice t’me, Sat.” He murmured, and her answering smile was like sunshine.

Satya went to reply but her words were cut off with a gasp as Junkrat leaned in. He didn’t really realise what he was doing until he was already there and his eyes popped wide with horror and then it was not quite a hug; it was something awkward and bumbling and he could feel himself going red as her hands landed on his arms and pushed lightly, but his momentum couldn’t be stopped and his nose ended up in her hair, which was slightly better than the kiss he’d been aiming for, but _fuck_ was it embarrassing anyway.

“Thanks, Satya.” He mumbled, utterly mortified, and hurriedly pushed himself backwards, looking anywhere other than the Vishkar architech who was staring at him with wide eyes.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, Satya looked away and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome.” She said quietly.

Junkrat thought desperately of what to do next and decided fleeing was the only acceptable plan; he waggled the tablet and started moving backwards, towards the exit.

“Well, gonna go check out the rest of these.” He said quickly. “Uh, see y’later?” It came out like a question and he cursed himself furiously, then realised Satya’s cheeks were flushed with colour, and it made his own ears burn.

Satya took a deep breath, her eyes firmly locked on the floor. “Yes, I think that would be best.” She murmured quietly, then turned to face her workbench. “Goodbye, Jaime.”

Junkrat mumbled something in return and hurried out of there like his arse was on fire. _Christ_ , what a turnout! He got back to his room in record time, and once the door had shut behind him, he collapsed on his bed with a groan. Mullock voiced his disapproval at being disturbed and came over for a pat, and Junkrat scratched behind his one ragged ear as he tried not to think about how awkward he’d just made things.

He’d had a good thing going! Satya’d been talking to him, Hog reckoned she’d been flirting with him during that Christmas phone call (which _really_ sent Junkrat’s heartrate up). _Dammit, dammit, dammit._ When would he learn to stop doing bullshit things like this? He _knew_ Satya would never do anything while she was still with Vishkar, but sometimes she overstepped her own boundaries. Like when she’d kissed his cheek in Numbani. She liked him, he was sure of it now; she just wasn’t going to act on it.

Well, not if he kept on being a dumbarse and trying to make a move on her.

Junkrat sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face, and then he lingered for a moment, his fingers pressing against where Satya had kissed him. He had to stop pushing her. Things needed to go at one hundred percent her own pace, or she’d pull back, and he really didn’t want that.

Junkrat eyed the tablet she’d given him for a moment. Satya had given him his parents back – and grandparents too, apparently – she _cared_. He couldn’t see why she’d bother if she didn’t. Mullock got tired of ear scratches and climbed onto Junkrat’s chest instead, walking around in a circle a few times before settling down to sleep, but not before shoving his arsehole right in Junkrat’s face. He swore and shoved the cat off him, to which Mullock voiced significant displeasure, so he picked up the cat and set him back on his chest, careful to keep the danger zone pointed away from his face. Mullock began to purr happily, and Junkrat scratched him absently, half his attention on a photo of his father pulling a float from a dam, and the rest on Satya, and what she was thinking now.

If his dipshitedness had made her decide to pull back, Junkrat was _definitely_ gonna kick his own arse.

He sighed and scowled at the ceiling, then turned his thoughts to Vishkar. _If only those bastards would just fuck off_ , he thought wistfully.

_If only._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still annoyed at blizzard for having such shitty timing - they revealed Efi AFTER I finished the Numbani chapters smh
> 
> Jamie's right, though 
> 
> if only there was some way to expose Vishkar for the crooked lot they really are
> 
> the song Jamie was singing at the start is 'Pour Some Sugar on Me' - Def Leppard


	48. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya finds out something she'll wish she'd known a long time ago

It looked like a perfectly normal Sunday when she woke up. Satya had no idea that this day, of all others, would change her life forever.

She made her bed and went through her morning routine, and once finished with her run and her warm down yoga session she got dressed and did her face and hair. She thought about Junkrat for a while, replaying the last time she’d seen him. Funnily enough, she didn’t object to the fact that he’d hugged her. Sort of, anyway. She didn’t quite call that bumbling display a hug, but she supposed it was the thought that counted, even if it’d taken all her willpower not to laugh at the horror on his face. She put him out of her mind as she prepared to go about her day; Satya had no doubt she’d see him later. Breakfast was a nondescript affair, and it wasn’t until mid-morning that the earthshattering event occurred.

The kitchens were empty, though there were people in the rec room, chattering away casually. Satya was about to leave when she heard Lúcio mention Rio, and she paused automatically in the doorway to listen unobtrusively, and soon gathered that Lúcio was giving Hana, Junkrat, Roadhog, Tracer and McCree lessons on what Rio was like, complete with a slideshow of pictures from his concerts.

The pictures themselves were unremarkable; they showed a very unappealing scene, full of tightly packed sweaty bodies, a total lack of personal space, and it was clearly very loud. Satya didn’t like the thought of it at all, and was about to leave when Lúcio flicked to the next picture, which showed some sort of concert outdoors. Behind him, she could see the Vishkar built city centre towering in the distance.

Satya paused.

That was Rio.

There was the city centre… and there were the slums. She frowned. _Impossible_. The favelas had been replaced, demolished and then rebuilt by architechs as part of the contract they had struck with the mayor, in an effort to improve the lives of everyone there. She hadn’t personally witnessed the construction efforts, having been recalled to India for another job not long after the opening of the city centre, but… they had definitely gone ahead.

Sanjay had told her so himself.

So, the picture must be old. It must have been taken after the city centre had been completed and before construction on the new favelas had begun. It would have been around the time that she herself had been there, preparing to return to India. Satya nodded, satisfied with that salutation, until a niggling voice in the back of her mind piped up and informed her that it was pretty sure Lúcio hadn’t been well known enough to draw _that_ kind of crowd until after he’d led his little insurrection and driven Vishkar out of Rio. Satya chewed on her lip, and no matter what angle she attacked it from, she couldn’t rationalise it away.

She strode forwards, cutting off McCree but barely noticing. “When was this picture taken?” She asked, and Lúcio looked startled, then suspicious.

“April, last year.” He replied, and Satya turned to stare at him, brows snapping together.

“April? _Last year?_ Impossible.”

Lúcio frowned. “Impossible? Why impossible?” There was challenge in his tone, but Satya rose to the bait anyway; she had to _know_.

“Where are the houses?” She demanded of him, striding closer to the picture and pointing.

Lúcio looked baffled despite himself. “…Right there?” It came out like a question, and Satya made an angry noise in the back of her throat.

“No. The favelas like the ones in this picture were demolished. Where is the housing Vishkar built?” She stepped backwards slightly to reconsider. “Perhaps the housing complexes aren’t visible from this angle.” She mumbled. “But why have these been left? Why haven’t _all_ the slums been rebuilt?”

Lúcio stepped forwards. “Vishkar never gave us any housing.” He said darkly, and Satya stopped and stared.

She was silent so long Lúcio began to look visibly uncomfortable, and then she turned back to the picture. “Impossible.” She said again, slowly this time. Lúcio obviously had all his facts wrong.

“You think Vishkar gave us housing?” Lúcio raised a brow. “You don’t know much about Rio, do you?”

That did it. Satya, being already tense and on edge, turned to snap at him. “Of course I do. I was there.”

She regretted that the instant she said it.

“You were _there?”_ Lúcio took a slow step forwards. “In Rio.”

Satya frowned tightly and didn’t respond. Lúcio took another step forwards.

“ _Symmetra_. You were there?”

Her mouth settled into unimpressed lines, but she shook her head. “That has no relevance. What I _want_ to know is why I can’t see the new housing complexes we provided, if you are correct in saying this is a recent image.”

Lúcio bristled. “Of course I’m right; that was the concert we had to celebrate driving Vishkar out of Rio.”

 _Oh_.

Satya turned back to the photograph on the screen, hovering her finger above the Vishkar built city centre.

“After the city centre was completed-” She said absently. “-work was slated to begin immediately to provide housing for those displaced by the centre, seeing as it extended into the favelas. We also considered the section of the favela damaged by the Calado fire a high priority as well. The projects were started years ago, not long after I went back to India. They were completed in under a year.” She turned to face Lúcio, a frown on her face. “Why can’t I see the constructs?”

Lúcio was frowning too. “There are no constructs.” He said darkly. “Vishkar only ever built the city centre. The people who lived in the buildings that were demolished to make way for it were never given housing. They moved in with family or built their own, or ended up homeless all together.”

Satya shook her head, distress settling in her stomach. “Impossible. We’d never do such a thing.” She turned back to the image. “They _must_ have been built.”

A thought occurred to her then, and Satya lifted her hands, weaving the wireframe of a tablet between her fingers with quick, practised strokes. After pulling it from the air, she logged on to Vishkar’s database and began looking for the Rio files.

“You see?” She said, finding the file she was looking for. “Here are our records. Everything related to the construction of the city centre and slum housing is noted right here.” She passed the tablet to Lúcio, and his brows snapped together as he read.

“She’s… right.” He said, pure confusion in his tone. He turned to the others sitting and listening with wide eyes on the sofa. “Vishkar has all the construction notes right here. Look at this.”

Hana, McCree, Tracer and Junkrat peeled themselves off the sofa and moved to crowd around the tablet, though Roadhog remained seated. McCree let out a whistle. “Project status is complete.” He said, pointing. “They’ve got pictures an’ everythin’. You sure Rio doesn’t have that?”

Lúcio shrugged almost helplessly. “I’m sure. I – I don’t know what to say, really. Why the hell is Vishkar falsifying records?”

Satya’s breath felt short. “We couldn’t be. We would never.” She said woodenly.

“Well someone is.” McCree said, looking from file to slideshow. “Y’can tell it’s the same place, but the buildin’s are different.”

Satya grabbed the tablet, yanking it unceremoniously from Lúcio’s grasp. “This is – all a foolish prank. Trying to make me doubt Vishkar.” She shook her head and backed up a few steps. “It won’t work, you know. I would never.” She got the feeling she’d said it too fast to be convincing.

“I’m not.” Lúcio had his arms folded, frowning hard. “I didn’t even know you were listening.”

Satya ignored that, casting her gaze to the image of Lúcio’s concert, eyeing the run-down favela with suspicion. “Vishkar would never falsify records like this.” She said, gripping the tablet as though it were a lifeline. “You must be wrong.”

“Hang on.” Tracer interrupted whatever Lúcio had begun to say. “There’s an easy way to see who’s right.” She turned to the wall mounted monitors. “Athena, can y’show us the most recent satellite images of Rio?”

Athena’s blue _A_ blinked slowly. “Of course. Give me a moment.”

Tracer turned back to them then. “See? We’ll see if the favelas are ‘ard light or not.”

Satya straightened; what a brilliant idea! They’d soon see the neat, perfect housing complexes designed for the city, see the way Vishkar – she blinked.

Athena had brought up the satellite images… and the only hard light building was the city centre.

Satya broke the silence first. “I… don’t understand.” Her voice sounded plaintive and lost, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen.

Lúcio… was right? _No_. Her first instinct was denial. He _couldn’t_ be right. There must be some reason why Vishkar hadn’t commenced with the redevelopment of the slums – perhaps trouble with planning, or maybe the protests had been the cause, but they would never have publicly made the promise to the people without following through.

But why did Vishkar records indicate that the construction work had been completed?

Her breathing was a little shallow, but Satya barely noticed, too wrapped up was she in the details. There had to be _something_ to explain it all away.

Lúcio, instead of looking pleased at having proven her wrong, was now looking concerned – not that she really noticed. Satya reached out and grabbed for the back of the nearest chair and missed the first time. She tried to puzzle over why that was odd, but she found herself preoccupied by the vice squeezing her ribs to dust.

Had Vishkar… lied?

The words entered her mind like a scream, blowing all her other thoughts away. Satya cringed, trying to escape it, and suddenly she felt far away from her own body as her vision swam with dots. Panic choked her, and a part of her barely registered when she dropped the tablet, the screen shattering on the floor. She didn’t notice because she followed in short order, her hands gripping at the legs of the chair as she tried to ground herself.

“Symmetra? Symmetra!”

“Oi, the _fuck?_ ‘Metra?”

“What’s wrong with her?”

Hana dropped to her knees beside her.

“Symmetra!”

Her breath coming in panicked gasps, Satya tried to calm herself, but it didn’t work. She couldn’t breathe properly, and grabbed Hana’s hand tightly.

“I can’t breathe-!” She managed to gasp out, and barely recognised her own voice, her heart felt like it was going to gallop right out of her chest, and Satya panicked – what was _happening_ to her?

She heard someone yell to go and fetch Mercy through the haze of panic, and Satya felt like she was suffocating. She clawed at her throat, gasping for breath, and then she realised someone else had dropped to their knees at her side. Too many people. She could feel them all looking at her, and it was only making the panic bubbling in her throat worse.

“Satya?”

She realised it was Mercy, and tried to turn towards her. “I feel dizzy-” She got out, and over the pain in her chest that squeezed the air from her lungs, she heard Mercy barking orders.

“She’s having a panic attack, everyone out, _now_. Give her space.”

Satya dimly heard the door shut as the last of the people that had been in the room left, and then she realised Mercy was holding her.

“You’ll be fine, Satya.” She murmured soothingly into her ear, and Satya seized hold of the words like a lifeline, digging her fingers into Mercy’s shirt. “Attacks like this last only a few minutes. Just breathe.”

Mercy stayed with her until the sharp pain in her chest began to abate and Satya could breathe normally again. Then, Satya found herself promptly removed to her room, where Mercy fussed over her until the doctor was satisfied that was sure she was fine.

Satya sat hunched in her bed. Mercy had fetched her pyjamas and made her go to bed, though it was not even lunchtime, and Satya was now curled into a ball, twisting the bedclothes hard between her fingers as she tried to make sense of things.

“I don’t understand.” She said slowly.

Mercy paused in the act of gathering Satya’s discarded clothes and putting them neatly into a pile. “Satya?”

“Vishkar has… _lied_ … to me.” She blinked hard. “At least, I think they have.”

“Now, listen to me.” Mercy sat on the edge of her bed and laid a hand over hers. “Don’t think about it too hard now. You’ve had a shock, and you should rest, give yourself time to calm down. Besides, nothing is proven. It might be a misunderstanding yet.”

Satya latched onto her arm. “ _Yes_ … nothing is proven… you’re right. Vishkar… would never lie. It’s all a mistake.”

Mercy smiled. “There, you see? It’ll all be fine. You rest here. I don’t want to see you out of bed for at least a few hours, am I understood?”

Satya nodded – that was perfectly fine to her.

“Thank you.” She murmured, and Mercy smiled.

“Oh, there’s no need to thank me, Satya. I’ll be back to check on you soon, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. Okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Mercy left then, and Satya stayed in bed for the rest of the day, staring at the ceiling as her mind tried to make sense of things. The more she tried, however, the more it seemed to overwhelm her, until she curled up against the onslaught of emotion and huddled beneath the covers for hours. An undetermined amount of time later, she began to feel short of breath again as it all began to be too much, and threw back her covers desperately, seeking to get out of the tight space she could feel beginning to encroach upon her lungs. Her fingers trembled and she didn’t realise she’d picked up Junkrat’s patch, twisting it between her fingers and stroking the rough surface with her thumb. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted her clock; it was late now, very late. Satya closed her eyes and sank to the floor, trying to ground herself against the sick panic and fear that twisted in her stomach. She was starting to doubt her own words; if she was wrong and this _wasn’t_ a mistake, if this _was_ all true, if Vishkar _had_ lied, what did it mean? What had they done that they were trying to hide? Satya’s eyes snapped open in the dark.

What had _she_ done?  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it begins


	49. There's Something Sweet, and Almost Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat helps Satya through some dark times

Junkrat scowled in the darkness as he looked for the bloody screwdriver he’d just dropped. It had rolled under his workbench and he was currently underneath it as well, hunting for the bloody thing. The lights were off, which didn’t help matters much, but he hadn’t felt like having fluorescent lights driving into his eyeballs at two in the morning. The bomb was a distraction, and a good one at that, but hunting for the screwdriver was letting in thoughts he’d been trying to keep at bay.

Mostly, he was worrying about Satya. She’d _collapsed_ when she’d found out… whatever the fuck they’d found out about Vishkar this morning. No one was quite sure what they’d uncovered, but they knew it was something, and something that Vishkar wanted to keep hidden, even from one of their best and most famous architechs. Junkrat frowned into the darkness as he swept his hands over the floor in the hopes of making contact with the screwdriver.

Lúcio was having regrets, he knew that much.

Actually, the DJ was feeling awful about the way he’d treated her. “But if she didn’t _know_ …” had been a common phrase heard from him throughout the day. After Mercy had whisked Satya off to her room and put her to bed, she’d come back to let them all know what was happening. Satya had had a panic attack, apparently one brought one by the realisation Vishkar was a spineless organisation of lying wankers. Of course, this was only news to Satya, and by all accounts, she was taking it very badly.

Lúcio was blaming himself for causing her panic attack, and had spent hours pacing up and down in the rec room, spit-balling ideas and testing theories as to why exactly Vishkar was concealing what they had. No one could work out what made Rio special, and from Satya’s words, they were pretty positive that she’d been sent there. If she was one of the architechs sent to Rio, why would she have been kept out of the loop? It made no sense.

Junkrat made an irritated noise as his prosthetic hit the screwdriver, but instead of grabbing it, it spun off his fingers and disappeared further towards the back of his desk, requiring him to scoot further forwards so he was completely hidden in the darkness. At that moment, the door hissed open and he froze, his life spent in the Outback making him wary of threats that lurked in the dark. If you could see them but they couldn’t see you, you had the advantage, and it was this mantra that kept Junkrat rooted to the spot, eyes narrowed as he eyed the approaching figure, and then he blinked and relaxed.

It was no hidden figure seeking to see his blood splashed across the floor; it was Satya.

She was dressed in that simple charcoal robe again, the silk whispering against her thighs as she walked into the room, the door hissing shut behind her. She had a blanket tucked loosely around her shoulders in the cool night air, and her hair was lank and messy. Junkrat’s gaze focused on her face and he noted that she looked exhausted and upset, deep shadows under her eyes and unease etched into her mouth.

Satya moved slowly into the room, and if he hadn’t had been watching her, he wouldn’t have known she was there, for she moved soundlessly on silken slippers to sit at her workbench. She pulled her blueprints towards her and stared at them for a moment, then let her head fall into her hands with a stifled sort of sigh.

Junkrat wondered what exactly he should do. He could reveal himself and look like a weirdo for hiding under his bench, or he could stay there and risk having to sit there for hours. He opted to move, and crawled out from under his bench.

“G’day.” He said quietly, and Satya jumped violently, swinging around with her hand clamped to her heart. She stood up, drawing her blanket closer around her.

“ _Oh_ … Jamison.” She said, and closed her eyes to let out a shaky breath. “You startled me. I didn’t see you there.”

“Was on the floor. Dropped a screwdriver.” He said by way of explanation, and then concern pushed him forwards. “Are y’feelin’ okay?”

She looked down. “I – not really.” Satya’s voice was quiet and a bit unsteady. “It’s… been a lot to take in.”

“‘Course it is.” Junkrat hesitated. “Wouldn’t have expected it, really.” Realising that his words could be construed differently, he amended his statement. “That Vishkar’s gone crooked, I mean.”

Satya looked at him a little strangely. “Wouldn’t you?” Her face crumpled slightly, and to his horror, he thought he saw the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. “Really? After all you’ve said about _suits?”_

Junkrat shrugged uncomfortably, not quite sure what to say. “Just tryin’ t’help ya feel better-” He mumbled, but when Satya stepped forwards with a noise of pure rage in her throat he realised he’d have been better off keeping his trap shut.

“Feel better? _Feel better?_ Like it was obvious and _I’m the only fool who didn’t see it?”_ Her voice shot through two octaves and trembled with anger, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“Sat-” Junkrat began uncertainly. He had no idea what to say.

“Stop.” Satya interrupted, and turned to face away from him. “Just stop.” She took a deep breath and rubbed her temples hard. “Oh Gods.” She said in a voice quite different to the one she’d used only moments earlier – she now sounded like she was crying. “Am I the only one who didn’t know?”

Her voice was tiny and ashamed, and it spurred Junkrat’s tongue to action. “No – Satya – listen. Me an’ Hog never trusted Vishkar ‘cause we don’t like suits, y’know that. Lúcio don’t like ‘em ‘cause of Rio, but the others never really suspected anythin’. Winston’s been singin’ Vishkar’s praises ever since he got fundin’ off ‘em.” He stepped towards her and then paused, realising she’d probably want space, but to his surprise, she seemed cheerful again, almost manically so.

“Yes, yes, of course! You’re right, of course you’re right. We’ve provided funding, because we help people, it’s what we _do_.” Satya’s tone was firm and brooked no opposition, and from the look on her face, he knew she was just trying to convince herself. “Vishkar wants the betterment of humanity… we work to bring order to the world… so it _can’t_ be true. How could Vishkar do something like this? _Why_ would we? It’s illogical, against everything we’ve ever striven for. No, it’s all… some kind of misunderstanding, that’s all. It can’t be anything else. It _can’t_.” Her last words were vicious in their certainty, and Junkrat hesitated, unsure of what to say as her face changed, morphing from savage conviction to pure grief.

“Oh Gods.” Satya slipped from English into something that was probably Telugu then, and Junkrat listened without understanding what she was saying until she slipped back into English. “What if it isn’t a mistake? But it can’t be.” She looked so conflicted and upset, and Junkrat bit his lip, wondering what to say.

“I should have known.” This was followed by something that sounded alarmingly like a sob, and Junkrat began to panic – he had no idea what to do for this.  She was switching so rapidly between utter certainty that Vishkar was innocent of all wrongdoing and that Vishkar had lied to her, and it was hard to keep up. He wanted to make her feel better, but he didn’t know _how_. Satya whirled, anger mixed with shame on her features. “If it isn’t a mistake, if Vishkar really has been lying, I should have _known_ , Jamie! How could I have been so blind! I – I-” Satya’s face crumpled, and she buried her head in her hands, shoulders shaking with wracking sobs.

“Christ – don’t cry, Satya.” Junkrat stepped forwards and awkwardly patted her shoulder. He had no idea what to do in this situation, but he decided to attempt something anyway. “Never pictured y’as the sort of girl who cries-”

“Don’t be so _stupid_.” Satya’s tone was savage under the desolation.

Well, that didn’t work. Junkrat searched frantically for a different tack. “If they’re a bunch of crooks, y’didn’t know, Sat. Y’can make it better now -”

“I shouldn’t have to!” She cried through her tears. “I don’t want to! Vishkar is my _life_.” Her voice dropped to a pained sob. “They’re my _family_ , Jamie. I don’t have anything else.” Satya wiped under her eyes and sniffled, and then she turned and leant against the wall, forehead resting against the cool metal and her hands braced beside her head. Her blanket was in serious danger of falling off her shoulders, and Junkrat took a few uncertain steps towards her.

“You’ll be all roight, Sat.” He murmured. _What had Mercy said?_ “Yer in shock, an-”

“Don’t make excuses for me.” Her voice was pointy and sharp yet fragile and pained. “I – just – I don’t know what to _do_.”

“You’ll figure it out. Yer the smartest sheila I know.”

She made a sound that was half chuckle and half sob, and shook her head. “I don’t want to believe it. I _can’t_ believe it.” Her voice was very small.

“Course y’don’t. Who would? But sometimes life chucks yer a shitty curveball. Y’just have t’try an’ roll with it.”

She shook her head again, harder this time, and she was clearly trying and failing to stifle her tears. “Do you realise what it means if Lúcio is right?” Satya took a deep shuddering breath. “It means I’ve spent _twenty years_ of my life in - in-” Her voice trailed off and she sank abruptly to the ground.

Thinking she might be having another panic attack, Junkrat hurriedly threw himself to his knees beside her and grabbed her shoulders. Not that he had the slightest idea of what to do for someone having a panic attack, but he had to do _something_.

“Oi – _Satya_ – hey-”

She looked up at him, and her face crumpled.

Junkrat wasn’t entirely sure who made the first move, but what he did know was that he somehow ended up on the floor, back against the wall, with Satya wrapped in his arms. Her breath was hot against his collarbone as she hid her face in his throat and cried.

The utter despair in her tone made him wince in sympathy, and he had to do _something_. Moving slowly like you would as to avoid spooking a wild animal, Junkrat gingerly gathered her closer, his touch gentle. Satya stiffened slightly, but her body trembled with another sob that heaved through her frame. He settled his prosthetic across her lower back, over her blanket, and stroked her hair softly with his other hand. He didn’t really know how to be comforting, so he was winging it in the extreme, but as Satya sniffled and slid her hands around his neck, her nose pressed into the hollow of his throat, he figured he mustn’t be fucking it up too badly.

 “Hey, c’mon.” Junkrat murmured. “No need t’cry.” Satya didn’t seem to want to let go of him, which was simultaneously thrilling and concerning, and Junkrat let himself revel in her hair sliding through his fingers. “It’ll all come good.”

“You don’t know that.” Satya took a deep breath.

“Sure I do.” Junkrat shrugged and offered her a grin she didn’t see. “No one here’d let Vishkar fuck y’over, if that’s what they’re doin’. We’d be piss poor excuses fer mates otherwise.”

Satya was still for a long moment, her breathing gradually slowing. “Thank you.” She whispered.

There was silence for a few long minutes, and Junkrat occupied himself with running his fingers through her hair. Satya was a warm weight at his side, her legs tucked under her as she faced the wall, her face buried in his chest. He pulled at the blanket, arranging it so that it covered more of her, and waited.

After a while she seemed more composed, and pushed herself upright to sit beside him. “What am I going to do, Jamison?” She asked, utterly desolate.

“You’ll figure somethin’ out, Sat-”

“No, I mean… if it is true… how can I live with myself?”

“Oh. Um…”

She shook her head. “You don’t know. See? Who knows what I’ve done in Vishkar’s name? I’m... I’m a _monster_.”

Junkrat thought this was going a bit far. “Now, wait a tic, Sat. Y’don’t even know if Vishkar is that dodgy.” He thought for a moment. “What if there’s only dodgy shit goin’ on in Rio? Like, one corrupt thingo? An’ didn’t y’say y’went back t’India before the buildin’ started? So whatever went on didn’t have anythin’ t’do with ya.” He nodded sensibly. “Y’might be overreactin’.” Junkrat didn’t agree with his words in the slightest (he was firmly of the opinion that Vishkar was more crooked than a corkscrew), but he was on a mission to make her feel better, so he steamed ahead. “‘Sides, there really ain’t nothin’ t’say they’ve lied t’ya specifically, is there?”

Satya was quiet for a moment. “But they have. I think they have.” A moment later and she shook her head viciously. “How can I doubt them like this? They’ve done so much for me… they – they – they’re the reason I am somebody in this world, how can I be so disloyal? After all they’ve done for me…”

“Yeah, but, y’don’t know what’s really goin’ on, do ya?”

Satya took a deep breath and shook her head. “No, I don’t. I know – I _think_ – that they’ve lied to me about Rio. Sanjay – he knew I was personally invested in the project. I just… I can’t think _why_ they would lie.” She nodded hard. “So it must be a mistake. It has to be.” A moment later and she turned morose again. “But why would Lúcio’s picture show the favelas like that? No, it must be true.” She rubbed at her temples for a moment. “Oh, Gods. Where can I go from here?”

“Concealin’ the truth ain’t really the same as outroight lyin’.” Junkrat mused – he was trying to find a train of thought that might hopefully make her feel a little better, and at the very least stop swinging so wildly between her stance on the situation. “Maybe it was just, I dunno, confidential or somethin’. So maybe it ain’t as bad as y’think.”

“Do you really think that?”

Junkrat opened his mouth, but he hesitated too long, and Satya’s laugh was bitter.

“I knew it.”

She straightened her back then, dabbing at her wet cheeks with a corner of her blanket.

“I’m sorry.” She said after a moment, eyes downcast.

“Sorry?” Junkrat blinked at her. “What for?”

Satya motioned between them. “This. I apologise for letting myself get carried away.”

Junkrat scoffed. “Now who’s bein’ stupid? Everyone gets upset.” He said, mirroring what she’d said to him. Her lips twitched, and he knew she’d caught it.

“Still.” Satya looked down. “I’d be reprimanded for it were you a Vishkar co-worker. Such a show of emotion-” She took a deep breath. “-well, it isn’t very professional.”

“Bunch of wankers.” He muttered under his breath, then decided to maybe try and get her mind off things. “So what brings ya t’the workshop? It’s pretty late.”

“I got sick of my room.” Satya’s voice was quiet. “I wanted to distract myself. Maybe build something, but-” She shrugged helplessly. “-I can’t use my hard light without reminding myself.”

“So build somethin’ the old fashioned way.”

The hint of a smile appeared on her lips, and she shook her head ruefully. “I wouldn’t know where to start. Hard light is easy, but building traditionally? The pieces are already formed. I couldn’t manipulate it the way I want to.”

“Most people have the opposite problem.” Junkrat said drily. “But I’ll give ya a hand if y’want.”

Satya did smile then, hesitant and small, but it was a smile. “Thank you.”

“Oright.” Junkrat rubbed his hands together. “Whadaya wanna build?”

A curious expression crossed her face, and then her eyes hardened, her face steely. “I want to build a bomb.”

Junkrat paused. “Uh… _really?_ ”

“Yes.” Satya nodded firmly. “That is your area of expertise, is it not? Will you show me how to make one?”

Junkrat sort of stared at her for a moment, then pulled himself together, a broad grin spreading over his face. Satya wanted to build a bomb, and she wanted him to help her. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen was going to build explosives with him. Junkrat briefly wondered if she’d want to detonate it, and was instantly on cloud nine at the thought.

“‘Course I will.” He beamed, then scrambled to his feet. “Stay put. I’ll get what we need.”

Satya smiled at him very softly, and he almost forgot what he was doing. Junkrat scurried over to his workbench and stared at it for a moment in intense contemplation; what should he give her to build? He settled on the little shells he used to load his frag launcher with; they were small and simple. Gathering up all he’d need, he carried it back over and settled all the stuff on the floor between them.

Satya reached out and picked up an empty casing and examined it carefully, a touch of uncertainty settling over her features.

“These aren’t dangerous to make, are they?” Her voice was slow and rather unsure, and Junkrat rushed to reassure her.

“Nah, they’ll be roight s’long as y’know what yer doin’.” Junkrat noted that she didn’t look particularly convinced, so he elaborated. “I could make these babies in me sleep, so no worries, ay?”

“All right.” Satya smiled at him faintly. “I trust you not to let me blow myself up.”

Junkrat arched into a fit of the giggles, wiping moisture away from his eyes when the laughter subsided. “These won’t blow ya up!” He managed, then eyed the casing critically. “Well, they will, but most of ya’d still be intact. Y’want t’be properly blown up, y’gotta get done by one of me bigger mines.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and gave her a wicked grin. “Can get ya one of ‘em, if ya’d like.”

Satya raised a brow. “I’ll stick to these little ones, thank you.”

Junkrat giggled again, then lurched forwards to pick up the casing, and then he paused. “Uh, no offence, but why-?” He hadn’t thought she’d ever want anything to do with his explosives.

“I don’t know.” She said, seeming to shrink in on herself. “I just want a distraction.”

Junkrat weighed an empty casing in his palm. “Well, these’ll do that.”

The corner of Satya’s mouth ticked up in a brief smile. “I’m counting on it.” She said softly.

Satya proved to be an attentive and serious student, following his instructions to the letter, though the more he laughed and joked around, the calmer and more relaxed she was becoming, until she began to snipe him with those little pointed remarks she was so good at, delivered with a wry arch of the brow and chased by a smile. It was addicting, so much so that Junkrat forgot all concepts of time until Satya yawned, covering her hand with her mouth.

“Gods… what time is it?” She asked, and Junkrat twisted around so he could squint blearily at the clock.

“Half past four.” He reported, and Satya grimaced.

“Ugh.”

“Too roight.” Junkrat agreed.

Satya moved then, turning herself around so she was leaning up against the wall, and Junkrat did the same, close enough that her thigh pressed along his. Satya didn’t seem to object, so he quietly enjoyed the moment.

“Thank you for this, Jamie.” Satya’s voice was soft and tired. “I’ve been far too much of an inconvenience to you tonight. I’m sure you had work you were doing that I interrupted.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Junkrat offered her a tired grin. “What was I gonna do? Work on me mines an’ ignore y’snifflin’ into yer blueprints?”

Satya made a noise that was both a laugh and a sob, and wiped under her eyes. “Thank you anyway. You’ve managed to make me feel better, at least.” She sighed. “I just hope things will be clearer in the morning.”

“‘Course they will.” Junkrat said cheerfully, his words underlaid by exhaustion. “Things always look better after a good night’s sleep. You’ll prob’ly wake up an’ realise somethin’ that explains the whole thing.”

Satya laughed a tired laugh and rubbed the back of her neck. “Gods, I hope so. Though I wouldn’t exactly call this a good night’s sleep.”

“I wouldn’t either.” Junkrat admitted, and leaned his head back against the wall himself, closing his eyes. Beside him, he felt Satya shift slightly into a more comfortable position, and the end result was that more of her side was pressed against him. He did not object to it, funnily enough.

“I suppose I should go back to my room.” Satya said, her voice little more than an exhausted murmur. “Just… in a moment.”

Junkrat mumbled his agreement. Exhaustion was making his thoughts swim, and Satya was a warm weight at his side, so his eyes stayed closed, and before he even realised it, he’d fallen asleep on the floor.

 

* * *

 

Junkrat awoke with a stiff neck and a sore back, and there was something hard digging into his side. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to stiffness after sleeping, but it seemed strange, and for a long sleepy moment he was confused until he realised he’d gotten somewhat used to sleeping in a proper bed, and sleeping on cement again had thrown his body out of whack. With an irritable grumble, he reached down and dug something hard and round out from under his side, and pulled it out to squint blearily at it. It was, he realised with some perturbation, one of his frag grenades. Junkrat spent a moment being bewildered as to why he was asleep on a hard floor and actually on top of one of his grenades, and then realised it was only half completed. Now feeling awake enough to look around, he realised he’d passed out on the floor of the workshop with mines and parts of bombs scattered around him.

None of this seemed out of the ordinary until he spotted a shell painted light blue, with a diamond painted on it in white paint by a neat, meticulous hand. Abruptly, it all came flooding back; the late night in the workshop, comforting Satya, building bombs with her until the early hours of the morning, passing out alongside her against the wall. Junkrat shot upright, looking around with wide eyes, but Satya was gone. The room was empty.

He let the half completed frag drop to the floor and went to press the heel of his palm into his eye, then became conscious of a dull ache in his arm and leg, and with a groan of irritation he realised he’d spent all night with his prosthetics on. While it was technically possible, it tended to be uncomfortable, and his stumps began to ache if he left the straps bound tightly for too long. Junkrat grunted and shook out his arm, trying to drive the uncomfortable feeling away, then loosened the strap with his teeth. It eased the discomfort, but if he tried any wild movements now his arm might fly off.

Junkrat sighed then, and pushed himself to his knees, gazing groggily around the room. He absently began to gather the bombs together, for prudence told him it wouldn’t be very wise to have anyone else see them and wonder why a diamond so evidently painted by someone else decorated his shells. Having deposited the shells back at his workbench, Junkrat then went back to grab the paint pots, and then his peg knocked against a wrench. Looking down with an irritable grumble, he realised there was paper pinned beneath it.

Curious, he reached down and picked up, and unfolded it to reveal letters written in a familiar hand. Squinting a bit from sleep deprivation, Junkrat stared at the words uncomprehendingly for a few moments until his brain kicked into gear and he could figure out what was written there.

_Thank you.  
I won’t be gone for long._

Junkrat stared at the note for a long moment, and then a slow grin hitched his lips up. Satya had written that – and she was coming back. He furrowed his brow. When? When had she left? Was she coming back to the workshop to see him? He was officially confused, and lingered in the workshop for nearly an hour before he got fed up and decided to go and get some breakfast.

Breakfast was in uproar.

No one was eating; they were all crowded around one table, talking loudly and seemingly worriedly. Hana turned around as the door hissed shut behind him and he ambled in, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

“Rat!” She cried. “Have you heard?”

“Heard what?” Junkrat asked as he scratched his chin idly, more interested in breakfast. He didn’t know what was going on, but it was probably something to do with a mission.

“Symmetra’s gone!”

Junkrat paused; Hana’s words did not compute _. “Eh?”_

“She’s done a bunk!” Tracer piped up, flashing to his side in a blip of blue. “She left this morning!”

Junkrat stared. “What the fuck for!?”

Tracer shrugged. “Buggered if I know. She lied to Athena, told ‘er Winston knew she was goin’, but Winston didn’t know anything about it!”

Junkrat’s gaze flashed to Winston, who looked frazzled.

“Why?” He asked, knowing he sounded rather stupid, but he hadn’t yet processed the information properly.

“Who knows?” Hana said, shrugging dramatically.

“Guilty conscience, maybe.” Pharah said darkly, but Mercy folded her arms and furrowed her brow.

“I don’t think so. That was a legitimate panic attack she had yesterday. I don’t think she’s faking. She genuinely didn’t know what Vishkar was doing.”

“But why’d she go?” Interjected Mei. “If she didn’t know, that means she’s got nothing to feel guilty about. So why steal one of our cars and leave?”

There was many a perplexed glance around the room, but no one seemed to have any answers. Satya’s note burned in his pocket, but Junkrat resisted getting it out. It’d only create questions – they’d want to know why she would have left him, of all people, a note, and worse, what she was thanking him for.

So he kept quiet, and listened to the others as they tried to think of what Satya might be doing, while they waited for Athena, who was busy running the numberplate of the car Satya had taken in an effort to find her.

Conversation and speculation was intense as they waited for results, and Athena announced she’d found the car. Pulling the images up on her screens, Junkrat furrowed his brow, then realised they were tracing Satya’s licence plate through traffic cameras.

“Where is she?” Asked Mercy, and it was a valid question, for Satya was driving through a city, and the camera changed every few seconds to compensate for the distance she had travelled. She was stopped at a set of lights, and from the angle of the camera they had a clear view of her through her window. She looked calm and composed, and even from this distance they could see she was flawlessly made up and dressed in professional, corporate clothing. The city was obviously European, judging from the buildings, but Junkrat couldn’t see anything more identifiable than that.

“Agent Symmetra is currently in the downtown sector of Toulouse, France.” Athena replied, and curious buzzing started up again.

“Toulouse? Why would she go to _Toulouse?”_ Asked Mei, sounding confused. Beside her, Ana shrugged.

“Maybe she’s got some Vishkar thing.” She suggested, and from across the room, McCree nodded.

“She’s dressed for it.” He drawled, and there were nods of agreement.

“Has anyone tried calling her?” Pharah asked, and there was silence.

Junkrat looked around at everyone else and stifled a laugh; they were all wondering where she was, and no one had called her.

“I’ll call her!” Hana chirped, and pulled out her phone. She put it on speaker, and everyone listened in silence as the phone rang and went to messagebank.  
She’s not answering me.” Hana said, sounding downcast.

“Don’t take it personally.” Winston said gruffly. “I’m sure there’s a reason for this-”

“Look!” Lúcio interrupted. “She’s just pulled over!”

Junkrat hurriedly looked up at the screen to see a security feed from a camera across the street from where she’d pulled up, as did everyone else, and saw Satya roll down her window and push her sunglasses up on top of her head as she spoke to the security guard who was operating the gate to an immense gated complex; the tower was tall and achingly modern, and Junkrat spotted the holographic Vishkar logo hovering at the front of it at the same time as Hana pointed it out with a cry.

“She’s gone back.” Pharah said. “I wonder why?”

“Maybe a meeting?” Ana suggested, but she sounded doubtful.

Winston pushed his glasses up his nose. “Whatever she’s doing, I assume there will be some sort of explanation. Even if she doesn’t come back, Vishkar will be obliged to tell us why.”

“But she’s left all her stuff here.” Piped up Mei.

“Which implies she’s comin’ back.” Drawled McCree.

“Exactly.” Winston sounded tired. “We don’t know what she’s doing so we can’t do anything for now. We should all just go about our day and see when she gets back, okay?”

“But what about what she found out yesterday?” Lúcio’s voice was hard. “What if she’s gone to confront them?”

There was a deeply uncomfortable silence, and Junkrat frowned. If she _had_ gone to confront them…

McCree spoke, his deep voice uncertain. “She told me dissenters get sent to reconditioning...”

This prompted worried conversation.

“She might need help!” Hana cried.

“She’s not stupid.” 76 said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “Surely she wouldn’t confront them alone if she _knows_ what’ll happen…”

“Then we should go!” Hana all but shouted.

“We can’t.” Ana interjected, her arms folded and her eyes narrowed. “We don’t _know_ if that’s what she’s doing. If we showed up, it could put her under real suspicion.”

Junkrat was fully on Hana’s team – he was all for heading to Toulouse to bust Satya out of there immediately, but reluctant as he was to admit it, he could see Ana’s point. Barging in there when Satya was only doing something totally innocent could be quite dangerous for her. The one thing consoling him was her note – she’d said she was coming back, and Junkrat fought hard to focus on that.

“So we wait.” Pharah said, eyes on the screen, where the Satya on camera had just received a ticket from the guard at the gate. Junkrat looked up with everyone else as the gates opened and Satya disappeared into the Vishkar complex.

“We wait.” Winston confirmed. “We wait and we hope she comes back.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Hanzo asked slowly, a steely glint in his eyes.

“We look for her.” McCree drawled over the top of Winston. “We don’t leave people behind.”

There was nothing more to be said, really. There were murmurs of assent and though Lúcio and Hana continued to furiously debate the topic, most people gradually moved away, for there wasn’t anything to be done. Junkrat went with Roadhog to the hangar, where Roadie was intent on polishing his bike. Once at the hangar and he was sprawled on the floor, absently fiddling with a spanner in lieu of something to do (he was not permitted to touch the bike unless riding in the sidecar. This had never offended Junkrat, for he knew Roadie’s relationship with his bike was like his own with his bombs. Others could look, but they couldn’t touch), Junkrat rolled over, pulled Satya’s note from his pocket, and waved it in the air.

“Oi, Hoggie.” When this garnered him no reply, Junkrat sat up. “ _Hog_ , y’great fat bastard. ‘Metra left me a note.”

Roadhog looked up, his appearance questioning despite his mask. Junkrat waved the note enticingly, and Roadhog put down the polish cloth and moved to snatch it from his grasp.

Roadhog read the note briefly, then looked up. “What’s she thankin’ y’for?”

Junkrat looked at the wall. “Was in the workshop last night an’ she came in. She was real upset. Talked t’her fer ages.”

Roadie sat still and considered things for a long moment, then chucked the note back at him. Junkrat snatched the floating paper out of the air and carefully tucked it back into his pocket.

“So she’s comin’ back.” Roadhog nodded, sounding satisfied. “Problem solved.”

“Not really.” Junkrat argued. “Dunno what she’s left for.”

Hoggie shrugged, as if this were very inconsequential. “Ask her later.”

Junkrat scoffed. “Easy fer you t’say!” He lay down again, turning the note around and around in his grasp, thinking worriedly. He didn’t like the thought of this – Satya was alone inside Vishkar now, and while he knew she was fully capable of handling herself, he also knew that Vishkar was one shifty motherfucker of a company, and she might just be in over her head. Still, there was nothing they could do for now.

They could only wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay real talk though, 'Something There' is 100% a symmrat song lmao
> 
> has Satya made a good or bad decision by going to Vishkar? time will tell


	50. Breaking and Entering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya is on a mission to find out the truth

Satya woke early, stirred to wakefulness by the restless motion beside her. Blinking drowsily, she stared uncomprehendingly at Junkrat’s shoulder as his arm twitched and skittered in his sleep, and then realised the warm something she was lying on was his chest. Raising her head further, Satya’s brows furrowed as she took in more of what was happening; Junkrat was asleep on the floor – they were in the workshop, she realised after a quick look around – and she was just about lying on top of him, his arm around her waist and her head pillowed on his chest.

She sat up carefully, moving to the side of him and removing his arm from her person. After a moment’s thought, she placed it on his abdomen, and Junkrat jerked slightly in his sleep then scratched absently at his belly. It made her smile, and she spent a few moments gazing at him. It was rare she could look at him so intently, and his face as it was now, unguarded and untroubled, was relaxed and comfortable and somehow fascinating. Satya drew her knees up higher and rested her arms on them as she thought for a moment. She felt better today than she had yesterday, and not just because Junkrat had managed to be an incredibly comforting presence. Satya tilted her head and stretched languidly; she felt at ease and relaxed about her next move, because now she had a purpose.

She knew what she would do.

Perhaps she’d always known, and had just needed to get her emotions out of the way. She still felt upset and betrayed, but the thought of Vishkar was no longer going to leave her in tears, because she was determined to find out the truth. Currently, she was operating on say-so and talk, and she didn’t have the _facts_. She’d been too upset to contemplate getting those facts before, but now she was over her shock and felt well enough to seek them out.

She was determined, and nothing would stop her.

Satya turned back to Junkrat and smiled freely with no one to see her. He’d been kind and comforting, and had helped her as a steadying and calming presence when she’d been upset. Reaching out, she trailed her fingers lightly over his cheek, then turned to leave. Her feet knocked against something small and round as she swivelled, and she nearly jumped out of her skin before she realised they were the little frag grenades he’d helped her make last night. They’d been a wonderful if unconventional distraction, and the sight of them made her smile. Seeing a scrap piece of paper, she decided to leave him a note.

She left the paper tucked beneath a wrench and stood, making her way from the workshop and leaving Junkrat sleeping peacefully on the floor.

The details of her plan were coming together beautifully, and all she had to do was execute them. Arriving back at her room, Satya checked the time. It was ten to six, which was perfect. She slipped into her bathroom and began to get ready, putting on makeup and fixing her hair until she looked neat and business-like. Once back in her room, she got dressed in her most professional looking outfit, and with her purse slung over her shoulder, she was ready to leave.

As expected, it was early enough that she ran into no one as she made her way down to the hangar, though she did have to duck down a corridor at one point to avoid Pharah, who was clearly on her way out for an early morning run. She reached the hangar without incident, and began to inspect the available vehicles. Something fast and inconspicuous was what she wanted, and she found it in one of the sleek civilian vehicles they kept on hand for reconnaissance duty.

“Good morning, Symmetra.” Athena’s cool tone echoed in the hangar, and Satya tensed slightly. She’d been waiting for this.

“Good morning, Athena.” She replied, and the AI’s voice turned inquisitive.

“Have you requested leave?”

“I have.” Satya lied through her teeth. “I spoke to Winston last night.”

There was a short silence. “I have nothing noted in my records.” Athena said finally, but Satya was ready for her.

“It was rather late and last minute. Perhaps Winston forgot to log it?”

“Perhaps.” If Athena was a person, she probably would have tutted. “He can be very forgetful, sometimes.”

“He knows, of course, that I’ve requested leave because Vishkar wishes for me to attend a meeting. It was quite last minute, which is why I hadn’t told anyone earlier.”

She could almost hear the AI thinking.

“That changes things. I am not permitted to grant leave to Overwatch agents without permission, but Vishkar’s orders override Winston’s when concerning you.”

There was a small grinding noise, and the hangar door began to open. Satya supressed a victorious smile.

“Enjoy your trip, Symmetra.”

“Thank you. I will.” Satya slipped her sunglasses on and got into the car, switching it on and feeling the thrum of power in the engine as it lifted into a gentle hover. She rejected the car’s prompt to turn on autopilot; they might track her with that. Satya drove the car herself, her thoughts firmly focused on her destination; Vishkar Tower, Toulouse.

 

* * *

 

The trip was managed without effort, and within a few hours she’d crossed the border into France. Toulouse was reached not long after that, and seemingly in no time at all she was outside Vishkar Tower, pulled up at the gates while a security guard opened the window in his little gatehouse.

Satya rolled down her window and pushed her sunglasses up to rest them on her head.

 _“Bonjour, mademoiselle.”_ The guard said, and she smiled at him.

 _“Bonjour, monsieur.”_ She began in French. “ _Est-ce que vous parlez_ …?”

The guard grinned at her. “ _Oui,_ I speak English.”

“Good.” Satya said in relief. “I do apologise. It’s been some years since I’ve had any reason to speak French and I am rather rusty.”

The guard looked understanding. “No need to apologise, miss. You wish to enter? Do you have ID?”

Satya handed over her identification and waited while the guard entered her into his system, and nodded when her legitimacy was confirmed.

“An architech?” He murmured. “Welcome to Toulouse, Miss Vaswani.” He said, his accent mangling her surname horribly.

“ _Merci_.” Satya replied, and the guard handed her back her ID along with a visitor pass. He waited until she’d clipped the pass to her blouse and then opened the gate in one smooth motion. She parked her car in the underground parking area, then headed to the elevator, where she was required to undergo a retinal scan before the doors would open. The doors, naturally, opened for her, and she was soon on her way up to the main lobby, where she was met by a tall, elegant looking man in an immaculate white suit.

“ _Bonjour,_ Miss Vaswani.” He greeted her, and Satya, having assumed the guard would have alerted someone to her presence, betrayed no surprise at having been personally greeted. Usually, she’d be flattered. Today, it was an inconvenience. The fact that he was speaking to her in English, however, was helpful. “I must say, this is a surprise. We rarely receive architechs of your calibre here in our modest facility, and without receiving prior notice, too…”

She could hear the suspicion in his tone, and worked to soothe his fears. “I understand, and believe me, this visit would have been arranged through the proper channels if it were within my power to do so.”

Adrenaline was pumping in her veins and her hands were trembling slightly, so she kept them firmly clasped around her purse, thanking various deities that she’d brought a clutch that _required_ her to hold it. Satya had never blatantly lied to a co-worker before, and _never_ to someone who was technically her superior, and while it was a little exhilarating, it was also utterly terrifying. She needed to keep track of what she said, because if she was caught out on her lies, the consequences would be severe.

Satya took a subtle deep breath and continued. “The fact is, I am currently based in Europe for a high priority project.” She turned to the man and raised her brows slightly. “The exact details are strictly confidential, you understand.” He nodded, and she continued. “However, I’ve run into a need for information I can’t access through our online databanks alone, which is why I’m here. I need to request access to the servers you have here. Timing is of critical importance, which is why you weren’t informed that I was coming. We hit our obstacle and I was on my way here seconds after we found that the information we needed wasn’t available.”

Satya flexed her prosthetic hand very deliberately around her purse, and it drew the man’s attention. She was one of Vishkar’s most renowned architechs. She held her breath, hoping her reputation was enough to get her past protocol.

“Of course, Miss Vaswani.” The man said finally. “Welcome to our Toulouse centre of operations. My name is Henri Cousteau, and I am the senior manager of this facility.”

“A pleasure.” Satya replied. “Now, seeing as time is of the essence, do you have a room available that I can use…?”

“Of course.” Cousteau replied immediately. “I’ll take you to our databanks. Please follow me.”

Satya smiled inwardly in victory as she followed Cousteau down the halls, nodding politely as she passed various people, some employees, some architechs, and some wearing visitors passes like hers. Some recognised her, she could tell, for their eyes widened as their glance darted from her arm to her face. That was unfortunate. The more people that knew she was here, the more chances there were of her getting caught out. Cousteau led her to a rather unremarkable looking hallway, and opened a door to reveal an office setup.

“This room is part of our guest facilities.” He said with a smile. “I will be in my office in case your business here is quite lengthy, but speak to the receptionist once you’re done and I will meet you again.”

“ _Merci_.” Satya said with a smile. “You’ve been most accommodating. I shall be sure to mention you in my report.”

A flush of pleasure stole over his face. “ _Merci_ , Miss Vaswani!” He said, voice significantly warmer than it had been before. Cousteau turned and left then, a spring in his step, and Satya moved off down the room to a computer completely shielded from view. She didn’t have a great deal of time; since he had not been informed of her visit, Cousteau would no doubt be on his way to make calls and verify her presence, and no doubt everyone would be confused when no one would be able to tell him of her motives.

And suspicion would follow.

Therefore, she needed to get what she needed before too much suspicion was aroused, and get out of the facility before they could detain her.

Satya spent a moment changing the language of the computer from French to English – at the last moment she noticed an option for Hindi and changed to that instead with a flicker of disappointment that Telugu wasn’t there – Hindi would be a safeguard against French-speaking spying eyes and cameras, should there be any there. She logged in immediately, using her secret weapon; Ojasin Gokhle’s credentials. He was a member of corporate similar to Sanjay, and she’d worked with him a number of times when Sanjay was out of the country, the last time being roughly a week before she left to join Overwatch. She had never meant to find out his password, but her mind had a habit of picking up patterns and whenever someone typed their credentials in front of her, she tended to sort of unconsciously identify what keys were being pressed and put it together. She didn’t always mean to, but it happened. She’d never used anyone else’s password before, but she did have the option of logging in as quite a few different people, should she want to, including Sanjay, and she planned to cycle through these various logins if the first pick didn’t work. Her plan hinged on Ojasin not having changed his password since she had last seen him, and she held her breath as she hit ‘enter’, but it worked and she was in.

As a member of corporate, not an architech, and furthermore someone of a higher clearance than her, Ojasin would have access to files that she could not. Furthermore, he didn’t have such a direct link to her, like Sanjay did. Ojasin travelled more often than Sanjay did too, so it might not be immediately obvious to any observers that it was strange to see Ojasin logged in to their Toulouse facility. Her object here today was to log in using his credentials and access information about Rio de Janeiro. If Lúcio was right, then surely whatever had been concealed should be accessible.

 _If_ something had been concealed.

Satya was still holding out hope that this was all a huge mistake and that Vishkar hadn’t done anything wrong, and she’d be able to throw the information in Lúcio’s face and sleep easy. Part of her was tempted to deny it all and refuse to doubt Vishkar, but there _was_ a seed of doubt, one that had been there since she was in Rio, however reluctant she was to admit it.

Sanjay and the others knew something that she didn’t about Rio, she was sure of it. She just had to find it.

Satya lifted her hands and constructed a tablet, with which she logged in using her own credentials. Having navigated to their files regarding Rio, she then did the same thing on the computer. Something she noticed immediately was that Ojasin had over double the files available.

Her brow lightly furrowed, Satya began to read and compare the two lots of information, while transferring more data to her tablet for later. In just a few minutes, what she had found had rocked her to her core; almost all of the files available to her had been fabricated. Everything was correct and legitimate up until the date where she’d left to return to India, and then files began to be falsified. Building records had been faked, and names of architechs that had been supplied as having travelled to Rio to work on the reconstruction of the favelas were revealed to have never even left India. Anxiety and panic washed through her, but she fought to control herself.

It was all clear now.

Vishkar had never intended to provide housing.

Or rather, they had, but not to the extent that she’d been led to believe. Due to the protests by the locals, those in charge of the project had voted to sort of ‘punish’ them by reducing funding and therefore, the quality of the project. To her horror, she found records detailing curfews in troublesome areas, attempts to thoroughly quash the locals. She found evidence of illegal detainment of known troublemakers, and even that of ordinary citizens. There were contracts with private security companies, deals with corrupt policemen and even hired mercenaries that Vishkar had paid to kept the residents of Rio under control, and none of it was available to her under her own credentials.

With a furrowed brow and shallow breathing, Satya checked her the records she had access to. There had been regular updates, up until the point when the project had been ‘completed’. That could only mean one thing; someone knew she’d been personally invested in the project and was checking up on their progress, and that same someone didn’t want her to know that the venture had failed so catastrophically. She’d known about the revolution, about how Lúcio had driven Vishkar out of the city, but she hadn’t known about the violence on Vishkar’s part, about the promised housing that had never arrived.

Satya kept reading. She learned that when Lúcio had stolen Vishkar tech, the corporation had cracked down on the area and gone after his family, going so far as to arrest his elderly grandfather, who’d become ill and required hospitalisation during his stint in prison.

Lúcio had then led the people in a revolution, and despite the security forces and mercenaries, they had been unable to suppress the sheer number of people, and had been driven out of the city. She read about the Vishkar higher ups who’d been in the city after desperate appeals by the mayor, and how they’d been evicted from the city, suffering personal and property damage.  

Vishkar was very bitter about Lúcio, and she clicked his name to read his linked files. It detailed exactly what they wanted him arrested for, and information about his family, and she realised to some horror that they were having his family watched even now, waiting for the moment he tried to get in contact with them. All ingoing and outgoing communication was bugged and monitored, and there were notes on his movements with Overwatch.

Satya stopped looking through his file when the word ‘Calado’ caught her eye.

Feeling sick to her stomach, she took a deep breath and opened the dossier. Her worst fears were confirmed to be true; Vishkar had planted the explosives that had levelled Calado Tower, and had marked the deaths of the men and women in the building as ‘unavoidable casualties’ – as were the lives lost when the fire spread to the surrounding favelas. Satya sat there, her memories of that night washing over her – the heat of the fire, the noise of the explosion, the overwhelming number of people in need.

The little girl whose life she had saved – Vishkar had risked her life. Vishkar had ruined her face.

With a heavy heart, Satya finished transferring the files over to her tablet. There was other information there too. Similar circumstances in other places – China, Columbia, Ethiopia. All that and more, and all places with slums. The more she read, the more she realised that Vishkar was targeting areas with high populations and terrible living conditions, and offering housing, and in return… oh no. Satya closed her eyes and prayed that when she opened them, the terrible truth would somehow have changed. When she opened them, however, the words remained the same. She had truly been complicit in something awful, and she needed to get this information to the watchpoint immediately. Now she had the files she needed, she had to get out of there before someone realised that Ojasin Gokhle was logged in at their Toulouse facility, but was at the same time sitting in his office in Utopaea. Presumably. She didn’t actually know where Ojasin was, but if he was travelling, she couldn’t deny that would be helpful.

The transfer complete, Satya flicked her tablet closed so the holographic screen disappeared, and slipped it carefully into her clutch. She logged out of Ojasin’s account and stood up, giving a polite smile to the others in the room, and left. By the time she reached the receptionists desk, she had arranged a perfectly composed expression on her face, and waited patiently for Cousteau to arrive, which he did shortly afterwards. He asked her if she’d found the information she needed, to which she replied she had, and he bid her a polite farewell.

So far, so good.

Satya retrieved her car and stopped at the gatehouse to give back her security pass, and held her breath as the security guard opened the gate. She drove out, and released her breath in a stunned rush of adrenaline. She’d done it. She’d accessed files she was never meant to see, and gotten away with it.

Well, it was probable someone would be on her case soon enough, but if she could get back to Gibraltar before they did so, she’d be safe. Her world had been thrown into confusion and the sense of betrayal made her feel sick, but she was sure of one thing; they couldn’t take her at the watchpoint. She’d be safe.

 

* * *

 

Satya didn’t drive back. Panic and an overwhelming fear were starting to cut in and interrupt the thoughts she needed to focus on her tasks. It was a wonder she managed to get through the gate and past that guard at all; she was entirely operating on autopilot. She did the same thing to her car, setting a course for Gibraltar and ceasing to focus on the road, choosing instead to curl up in her seat as best she could, trying to shut her more intrusive thoughts out. They circled around her, threatening to drown her. Eventually, Satya arrived safely back at the watchpoint, but as she pulled up in the hangar and cut the engine, she hesitated before getting out. She might have avoided reprimand from Vishkar for now, but she was certainly going to admonished for this by someone. Probably Winston. She had, after all, technically stolen Overwatch property by taking the car.

When she stepped out and shut the door, Athena’s voice came promptly to chastise her.

“I’ve informed Winston of your return.” Athena sounded a bit put out. “You told me you had leave.”

Satya _was_ sorry, quite genuinely so, but she found that she couldn’t speak. Instead, she began to eye the doorways, judging the best path to take back to her room.

“Please ensure you that follow proper protocol in the future, Symmetra.” The AI paused. “It appears nearly everyone is on their way down to see you. Protocol clearly states-”

Satya didn’t need to hear more; panic thrummed through her at the thought of being questioned now, when her head was utterly, hopelessly confused. She picked a door at random, and hoped like hell no one was coming from that way.

She ran off without another word, not caring if she was being rude or what Athena or the others thought of her, and moved through the corridors towards the barracks. Her head was hopelessly confused and she needed space and quiet to afford herself time to decompress. To her eternal relief, she didn’t run into anyone; she remembered that today there had been training scheduled, and so they’d all be at the testing range, which gave her time to get back to the barracks before they could find her. Satya reached her room and gratefully locked her door behind her, sinking onto her bed. It was good, the solitude. It left her to her thoughts, where she could contemplate the extent of the corruption within Vishkar, and her own role there. It made her feel ill, but it had to be done.

She had to know what she had done.

So engrossed in her misery was she that Satya jumped, startled, when there came a loud knocking at the door, followed by the sound of the intercom.

“Symmetra?” That was Winston’s voice. “Symmetra, are you all right?”

Satya didn’t answer. She absolutely didn’t have the strength to engage in conversation, nor did she want anyone to see her. If she couldn’t think about this properly, alone, she was going to start panicking all over again.

“Satya?” That was Mercy’s voice, and Satya squeezed her eyes closed and tipped her back against the wall. She couldn’t do this. Not now. Not when she could hear other voices in the background, buzzing curiously like little humming bees behind Mercy’s questions. Satya slowly dug her phone from her pocket as Mercy’s voice came over the intercom again, asking if she was okay. Satya drafted a quick text, her fingers trembling on the keys.

There was more hammering at the door and Satya flinched away from the sound as she hit send.

 **{96856} Symmetra  
** I am okay. I’m sorry but I can’t talk right now

Mercy’s reply came swiftly, and Satya had to try hard to focus on it.

 **{86374} Mercy  
** I understand completely. Are you sure you’re okay?

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
I am. Thank you. I will explain later. I just can’t right now

 **{86374} Mercy**  
I’ll tell everyone not to bother you

Another message followed rapidly.

 **{86374} Mercy  
** Please call me if you need anything

Mercy was so _good_ , it made tears prickle at her eyes. Satya tightened her lips and focused on breathing slowly, then looked at her phone again.

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
Thank you

She let her phone slip slowly off the side of her bed and to the floor, and focused on her breathing for some more. It occurred to her that she’d heard no one over the intercom for a few minutes, and turned to look. Still nothing. Perhaps Mercy had herded them all away? Mercy was swiftly becoming her single favourite person.

Her hands were shaking and Satya closed her eyes, counting her measured breaths in an attempt to feel calmer. She was starting to shake, and though she’d managed to stave off her anxiety until safely home and sequestered away from prying eyes, she was starting to feel overwhelmed, the knowledge of what she’d found at Toulouse threatening to engulf her.

Her breath was starting to come in short gasps, and Satya huddled beneath her covers, throwing her favourite weighted blanket over her head. As well as being warm, the weight was soothing, and she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stay calm.

After a few moments, Satya threw the blankets back to free her head, then reached for her clutch. She pulled it towards her and fished her tablet from its depths, and flicked it on with shaky fingers. She waited impatiently while it cycled through the start-up animation, and took a deep breath before opening the files.

She didn’t want to look. Her entire being revolted at the idea. But she couldn’t look away. Every word was the truth; she knew Vishkar kept meticulous records. She just hadn’t known they’d been substituting false ones for her to see. And for how many others? This was a new problem she hadn’t contemplated before. How many of her fellow architechs were in the dark, blindly following orders? Ojasin was in on it. Was Sanjay? Was Ranveer? Prithviraj? Haripriya? Yuvan? Likhitha? Risaan? Had they had the truth concealed from them, or did they know what was going on? Worse, did they _agree_ with it? She pictured another architech in her department – Devanshi was similar to Satya in many ways. They shared a similar drive in their work, and though Satya was more of a public figure than Devanshi, they’d worked together on many projects. Satya wouldn’t exactly call her a friend, but up until this moment, she’d never have hesitated to call her and chat about work or anything in a similar vein. With a sinking feeling, Satya realised she could never get that back.

Even if this was somehow proven to be false, she could never get her sense of security within the company back. She’d always be suspicious.

Picturing Devanshi, Satya tried to imagine her knowing about Rio – she had known about Rio. Devanshi had been one of the architechs sent there when Satya had been recalled to India. Swallowing her fear in her quest for answers, Satya checked the time. It was nearly five o’clock in the afternoon – India was three hours ahead, wasn’t it? So assuming Devanshi was in India and not travelling on an architectural project, it would be around eight in the evening. Satya could contact her.

Drawing up her emails on the tablet, Satya drafted a quick message, lying through her teeth as she constructed an excuse.

_Devanshi,_

_I hope you’re well. Are you still in India? I’m afraid I haven’t heard a great deal about who had been assigned what projects recently – I’ve been much too busy with my European job. I hope this isn’t inconvenient for you, but I’ve an interview lined up (you know how it is) and they want to reference the work Vishkar did in Rio de Janeiro. I was brought back to India for the Cambodia redevelopments before work on the housing began. I know you were there, so I wondered if you could refresh my memory?_

_Regards,  
Satya_

She worried over the message before a good five minutes before hitting send, and dread sat heavily in her stomach. She continued perusing the files she’d taken from Toulouse, and nearly jumped out of her skin when her tablet _dinged_ not ten minutes later, indicating that she’d received an email.

She had to press the email icon a few times as she fudged it several times in her haste to open it. It was from Devanshi, and Satya wiped suddenly sweaty palms on her blankets.

_Satya,_

_Lovely to hear from you, and I hope your European trip is going well. I think you might be confusing me for someone else, however – I wasn’t assigned to Rio. Come to think of it, I don’t actually know who was. Perhaps you could try emailing Naman? I think he may have been involved. I hope your interview goes well._

_Yours,  
Devanshi_

Satya stared at the email uncomprehendingly. Devanshi… _what?_ She _hadn’t_ been there? Impossible. She _distinctly_ recalled Sanjay saying she was on the team when he met her in Rio to open the city centre.

So… either Sanjay or Devanshi was lying.

Satya licked dry lips and read it through again. She didn’t think Devanshi was the type to lie, but… she couldn’t trust anyone now.

She composed a new email with shaking fingers.

_Devanshi,_

_My apologies. I must have confused you with someone else. It isn’t crucial that I speak to anyone on the Rio team – I just thought an insider’s perspective might be helpful for my interview._

_Thanks again,  
Satya._

Satya hit send then rolled over to stare at the wall. There was a bad feeling brewing in her stomach. She quickly checked the Rio files available to her with her own credentials and… there was Devanshi’s name, clear as day. What’s more, Devanshi had suggested _Naman Agarwal_ as someone who had been there – Devanshi was lying, because Satya knew for a _fact_ that Naman had been in southern Italy at the time, representing Vishkar during their acquisition of a construction company. Or maybe Devanshi had been fed that information, and she was just as in the dark as Satya had been.

_What on earth was going on?_

Feeling overwhelmed with it all, Satya dropped her tablet to the floor and curled into a ball, trying to will everything away. This couldn’t be happening. If she woke up tomorrow and this was all some hallucination induced by gods only knew what (food poisoning? Smoke inhalation? Lead paint?), she’d be so relieved.

Satya groaned and peeled herself out of bed, and dragged herself into her bathroom, where she shed her clothes, shielded her prosthetic, and all but crawled into the shower. She sat on the shower floor – if it was her shower, it wasn’t _that_ unhygienic, was it? – and drew her legs up to her chin so she could wrap her arms around her shins and bury her face in her knees. The water, deliciously hot and sufficiently soothing, poured over her body and ran along her skin in steaming rivulets. It was verging on discomfort from the heat, but she relished the pain – it was better than focusing on the anguish in her mind, but no matter how she tried, Vishkar intruded on her.

However much Satya wanted to deny it, she knew the truth now, and it couldn’t be denied.

Vishkar had betrayed her, and now she needed to decide what she would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are heating up for vishkar. too bad they don't know it yet


	51. Data

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat accidentally makes Satya and Lúcio have a much needed talk.

Junkrat was tired.

He’d forgotten to go to bed last night and so had been up for just about twenty-four hours, and he was wrecked. He blamed his frag launcher – the trigger was playing up, occasionally just clicking when he fired it in training, rather than actually working and firing a grenade. That was a worrisome problem, and he’d spent the last day poking at it in the workshop, testing out both Torbjörn’s and Brigitte’s suggestions, and he was fairly confident he’d fixed it; it just needed testing now, but he was far too buggered to see to it today.

All he wanted to do was sleep, but knowing him, he’d start thinking about some inane bullshit and stay awake for the next five hours. Junkrat dragged his hand down his face and groaned low in his throat as he shuffled around the corner, attempting to reach his room before he passed out on the floor.

Well, he tried to blame his frag launcher. Mostly, he was worrying about Satya. She was almost the sole topic of discussion, after she’d managed to get back into the base without seeing _anyone_. Junkrat had been there (well, everyone had) when they were knocking on her door and trying to see what had happened in Toulouse and find out if she was okay- she hadn’t come out and she hadn’t even replied. She’d texted Mercy though, and Mercy had been strangely defensive of her, insisting that no one bother her because she couldn’t talk. Actually, Junkrat hadn’t really registered that the wording was strange until Hana had brought it up later. _Couldn’t_ talk, not wouldn’t.

So they didn’t know what was going on. Had Satya confronted Vishkar? Had they threatened her? Had she gone for another reason entirely? If that was the case, why all the secrecy? It made no sense.

Junkrat’s room was down the far end of one of the corridors, which meant he had to traipse past quite a few bedrooms in order to reach his, including Lúcio’s. The DJ in question was lurking outside his own bedroom door, which didn’t strike Junkrat as strange until he was level with him.

“G’day.” He muttered sleepily, raising a hand briefly in greeting.

“Hey, Rat.” Lúcio seemed a bit antsy for some reason, and as his gaze turned to look at his door, Junkrat did too, blinking a bit.

It took him a moment, but eventually he realised that this wasn’t Lúcio’s room.

It was Satya’s.

“Y’waitin’ fer someone?” He asked, and Lúcio shook his head.

“Nah, I’m just…” He sighed slightly. “I’m trying to work up the guts to knock.”

Junkrat’s gaze travelled back to the door so he could double-check. It still said ‘Satya Vaswani’, so he raised a brow.

“Whadaya wanna talk t’Metra for?”

Lúcio frowned, folding his arms. “She hasn’t come out of her room yet, but I want to know what’s going on. I want to know why she went to Toulouse. I want to know what she knows, because she isn’t telling us something. It’s got something to do with Rio, I _know_ it has, so I have a right to know.”

“Sounds legit.” Junkrat mumbled. “Knock then.”

Lúcio hesitated. “I… don’t think she’ll let me in.”

“Y’know what? I don’t reckon so either.” Junkrat stifled a yawn. “Whadaya gonna do?”

Lúcio shrugged. “Find some way to get her to let me in, I guess.”

“Well, hang on, give us a go.” Junkrat didn’t stop to think things through – in his sleep-deprived state, he didn’t stop to consider that he had no reasonable explanation to give Lúcio as to why Satya would let him in – he just turned and pressed the little intercom button by the door.

“G’day.” He said, while Lúcio looked horrified in the background. “Y’in there?”

There was a long pause, but then Satya replied.

“Yes.”

“Y’wanna open the door? Y’know, see how y’are an’ stuff.”

There was an even longer pause, and in the middle of thinking that maybe he’d just fucked it all up and Satya would refuse to come out, the door opened. She had her back to them as she walked away from the door to get back into bed, her form swathed once again in her silk robe. It was clear she didn’t realise Lúcio was there until she’d gotten back into bed and looked up, where she froze, clutching her pillow in front of her chest.

Junkrat pushed Lúcio’s shoulder, propelling him into Satya’s room. He hit the button to close the door and leaned up against the wardrobe to stifle a yawn. The silence was deafening, and Satya’s eyes went from wide and surprised to very narrow indeed.

“What is this?” She asked, her voice pointed and sharp, and as Junkrat’s gaze found her face, he realised just how terrible she looked. Satya wore no make-up, and she had prominent dark circles beneath her eyes. Her hair was pulled back roughly, clearly unbrushed, and she looked haggard and exhausted, like she’d passed a few sleepless nights. It was more than that, however – she always looked lovely to him, make-up or no make-up, but there was a sense of grief clinging to the lines of her face that aged her.

“Er…” Said Lúcio, clearly confused, and Junkrat stifled another yawn.

“Lúcio wants t’talk about Rio.” He volunteered, and Satya’s eyes narrowed a bit more.

“Does he?” She leaned back against the wall, bringing the pillow she was hugging with her so it obscured everything but her eyes. “Good for him. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Uh…” Junkrat scrambled around in his brain for a moment. “I’m the mediator.”

Lúcio flashed him a suddenly grateful look. “Symmetra.” He began, taking a step forwards. “Look, I don’t pretend to know what’s going on. In fact, I got no idea. But you seem to think Vishkar had plans for Rio. Now, maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. You’re in a better position to know than me.”

Lúcio would have no doubt continued, but Satya very abruptly closed her eyes and buried her face in her pillow. Junkrat exchanged a confused look with Lúcio before she spoke.

“Do you think so? I don’t.”

“Sounds ominous.” Junkrat mumbled under his breath. Lúcio looked uncertain.

“Okay, Symmetra – what do you mean by that? Has this got something to do with Rio? If it does, can you tell me? I just want to understand.”

A very bitter laugh was muffled into her pillow. “Don’t we all.” She lifted her face then, and to Junkrat’s perturbation, her eyes were dangerously glassy. “All right. I’ll tell you.” She nodded to her desk chair. “Sit down.”

There was only one chair, so Junkrat and Lúcio exchanged a look, before Junkrat sank to the floor. The floor gave him more room to stretch out, which he preferred. Lúcio sat down on the desk chair and frowned.

Satya took the silence as her cue.

“I suppose you want to know where I went yesterday.”

“We know you went to Toulouse. To Vishkar.” Lúcio interjected. “Athena tracked your license plate.”

“Of course she did.” Satya muttered. “I went to Vishkar’s French headquarters because I needed access to their databanks.” She took a deep breath. “Because… because you were right. Vishkar has been falsifying information.”

There was a long silence. As Junkrat blinked and attempted to properly comprehend her words, Lúcio spoke, his voice cautious.

“Okay. How ‘bout we start from the beginning? The other day, when I was showing the guys my concert pics. You… didn’t know Vishkar hadn’t rebuilt the favelas?”

“No.” Satya’s fingers plucked anxiously at the fabric of her pillowcase. “No, I didn’t know. I was led to believe that Rio had been given new housing, hospitals, sports centres, a concert hall and several shopping centres spread across the districts. Until that moment… I had no idea.”

“You were led t’believe?” Junkrat interjected over a muffled yawn. “By who?”

“I don’t know.” Satya scrubbed her fingers over her eyes. “I truly don’t. Someone who knew I was personally invested in Rio, I suppose.”

Lúcio’s brow furrowed. “Personally invested? So you _were_ there.” He said slowly.

Satya nodded. “I was the architech sent to broker the deal. I was the one who met with your mayor and presented the proposal.”

Junkrat stared, and Lúcio’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

“You?” He finally got out, anger lurking beneath the surface. “It’s _your_ fault!?”

Satya lowered her pillow enough to see her face, and they both saw the bitterness twisting at her mouth. “It would have been-” She said. “-if your mayor had chosen our proposal.”

Lúcio looked confused, which was good, because Junkrat was also confused.

She elaborated. “The mayor chose Calado’s proposal. A clear mistake.” Satya shrugged one shoulder. “A hideously unrefined design, not to mention that hard light is clearly the superior tool. We’d have had the project completed and the favelas rebuilt before Calado had even lifted a finger.” Her voice was disdainful, like she truly thought Calado was primitive and unwieldly, not on Vishkar’s level. Junkrat reminded himself that she probably did.

“But Calado burned down.” Lúcio said. “So Vishkar was called back?”

Satya hesitated, and Junkrat furrowed his brow, because mingled with her distressed expression… was guilt.

“If I tell you this...” She said hesitantly. “You must promise to let me finish before you speak.”

Junkrat nodded from the floor, and after a suspicious moment or two, Lúcio did as well.

Satya twisted her fingers together anxiously, then began. “You have to understand-” She said, her voice almost nervous. “-that Vishkar was always the better choice. It’s just… some people didn’t understand.” She took a deep breath. “So we would attempt to change that.”

Junkrat could tell Lúcio was about to speak, so he punched him lightly on the kneecap, which was the easiest place to reach from his current position on the floor. Lúcio rubbed his knee and glared, and Junkrat mouthed at him to shut the hell up. Satya gave him a grateful look and continued.

“I… if we were in direct competition with someone, like we were with Calado, it was my job to… investigate them.”

Lúcio’s eyes widened then narrowed, and Junkrat stared, wondering where she was going with this.

There was a bitter curve to her lips. “You asked me once why I, a glorified architect, needed a teleporter and an energy drain. I _do_ use my tools for my projects, but… they also come in handy when breaking and entering.”

Junkrat’s jaw dropped, and Lúcio had resumed his goldfish impersonation.

“You _broke into_ Calado?” He spluttered, and Satya turned defensive.

“It was the only way to win the contract.”

“You _broke the law_ -”

“None of that mattered. We had to get the contract, no matter what it took. We were going to make everyone’s lives better.” Her expression shifted, turning desolate. “Or I thought we were.”

Seeing that Lúcio was going to make a scene, Junkrat punched him hard in the thigh to make him shut up.

“So y’broke into Calado. What happened then?” Junkrat asked, keen to keep the conversation going so Lúcio couldn’t get any more argumentative.

Satya turned a grateful look on him, then plucked at her sheets with anxious fingers. “Nothing. I couldn’t find anything. Calado was a slumlord, but he wasn’t doing anything illegal that we could present to the mayor. So I left.”

Lúcio relaxed. “Great! What happened then?”

Satya’s expression turned very nervous. “I told Sanjay I hadn’t found anything, and I… I was leaving when the tower exploded.”

Lúcio’s mouth fell open again. “You were there _the night it burned down?”_ He nearly shouted, and Satya flinched. Junkrat reached up and punched Lúcio again to make him shut his mouth.

“I watched the building come down.” Her voice was very distressed. “There were men inside… I’d used my energy drain on them, so there isn’t any way they could have gotten out.” Satya wiped her fingers under her eyes. “I saw the fire spreading to the favelas and got there as fast as I could. I spent the whole night using my hard light to stabilise the houses and pull people out of fire. I – I couldn’t leave them there.” She took a shaky breath. “There were some people I didn’t get to in time, and that has haunted me ever since.”

It was clear that Lúcio was having conflicted feelings, and Satya took advantage of his silence to continue.

“There was one little girl.” She said shakily. “Her name is Rosa. I saved her life, but… her face was badly burned.” Satya took a deep breath. “I’ve been checking up on her ever since, donating to her school… making sure she’s all right.” Satya smiled slightly then. “She’s a beautiful girl. She’s in high school now.”

Lúcio frowned. “Why do you care so much about Rosa?” He asked, then backtracked. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s great that you do. But why her?”

Satya chewed her lower lip for a moment. “I met her.” She said finally. “Before the fire. I was trying to find my way back to my hotel, and I’d gotten lost in the crowd. They were protesting our plans… I’d thought them very foolish at the time. The favelas could have been clean and full of light. So much better than what I grew-” Satya abruptly cut herself off. “Rosa saw me and asked if I was all right.” The corner of her mouth lifted as she remembered. “Tiny little thing she was, probably only nine or ten. She took my hand and had me back at my hotel within five minutes.” Satya’s smile slipped. “The next time I saw her, her house had caved in and her mother was screaming for help while it burned.”

Junkrat stifled another involuntary yawn and glanced over at Lúcio, who looked intensely contemplative as he leaned forwards, elbows leaning heavily on his knees.

“Okay.” Lúcio said with the air of someone trying to figure something out. “So, you went to Rio to get the contract for Vishkar, but it was given to Calado.”

He paused, and Satya nodded.

“Right. So you were sent to break into Calado’s tower to try and find something that would mean the contract would have to be given to Vishkar, but you didn’t find anything?”

“That’s right.” Satya’s voice was quiet.

“So… the fire was or was not an accident?” Lúcio’s tone was wary.

Satya pulled her shoulders in tight, hunching into her pillow, which she clutched as though it were a shield. “I thought it was.” She said dully. “I hoped it had been. I wanted to believe that, but… when I went to Toulouse yesterday, I stole Ojasin Gokhle’s credentials and broke into Vishkar’s database.”

Junkrat and Lúcio both gaped in surprise.

“Ojasin Gokhle?” Lúcio asked, his tone wary. “Who’s that?”

“He works in Vishkar’s corporate sector. He’s similar to Sanjay; he supervises another architech like me. He had access to more files than I do and… what I found…” Satya closed her eyes. “Vishkar set the fire.” She whispered. “I didn’t know… or maybe I was just in denial. Those pictures of your concert. I couldn’t deny them, so I needed to find out the truth.” She was quiet for a few moments. “Rio is not the only place about which Vishkar has lied.” She shook her head briefly. “Do you recall how I showed you the files that I can access? With falsified information, complete with photoshopped pictures of the favelas?” 

Junkrat and Lúcio both nodded, and Satya sighed. “When I logged in with Ojasin’s credentials, I found that the files he had access to, the legitimate files, were very different to the ones I could access. They knew that I would ask questions if the project in Rio didn’t go ahead, so they concealed it from me.” Something bitter tightened her mouth. “I stole all those files. I’m going to give them to you.”

Lúcio gaped, and Junkrat raised his brows and yawned. _Well, whadaya know._

“How many files?” Lúcio sounded extremely excited now.

Satya shrugged. “I don’t know the exact number, but I have what was important. I’ll send them to you.” She hesitated. “There were files on you.”

Junkrat looked over to see Lúcio nod. “About my thievery, yeah?”

“Yes, but quite a bit more.” Satya bit her lower lip slightly, then asked a question that made Junkrat’s brows furrow in surprise. “Are you in contact with your family?”

Confusion settled on Lúcio’s features. “Yeah, of course. Why-?”

“You should try to move them, if you can. They’re being watched. Phones, computers, mail, everything is being monitored. I found records of your mother being tailed while grocery shopping. Vishkar is trying to find you, and they’ll use your family if they can.”

Lúcio gaped, shock written on his face. “ _What?-”_

Junkrat frowned, confused. “Did y’know?”

“I did not.” Satya said softly. She frowned again, distress etched around her mouth. “This has been… a lot to take in. I would appreciate it if you left now.”

“But-” Lúcio began.

“Oi, mate.” Junkrat murmured. “Leave it.”

Satya half smiled at him, and then she reached for her tablet. “Here.” She said. “Let me…” She wove something out of hard light then, and Junkrat blinked at it until he realised it was one of those tablets she sometimes used, the transparent ones that could float. She spent a few moments apparently transferring the files across, and then she held out her hand. Lúcio jumped out of his chair to grab the little device, and then thanked Satya profusely.

“Don’t thank me.” She said, closing her eyes. “Not after what I’ve done.”

“But if you didn’t know-” Lúcio began.

“That doesn’t matter at all.” Satya interjected harshly. “I still did it.”

Junkrat and Lúcio both exchanged a worried look as the silence grew louder, and then Junkrat hauled himself laboriously to his feet.

“Roight, we’ll be goin’ then. See ya later, ‘Metra.” He grabbed Lúcio’s arm and towed him unceremoniously to the door, where he then shoved the DJ into the empty corridor.

Junkrat shoved his hands into his pockets as they fell into step beside one another, Lúcio contemplating the information in his hand.

“I’ve gotta look at this right now.” He said, voice sounding a bit strained. “She said they’re watching my family. I’ve gotta-” Lúcio stopped then, and gave Junkrat a very odd look. “How come she let you in?”

“Uh.” Junkrat’s mind blanked completely. Fuck, why _had_ she let him in? “We’re, uh, mates.” He managed, and Lúcio raised a brow.

“You’re _friends_ with the Vishkar chick? Thought you didn’t like suits.”

“I don’t.” Junkrat defended himself. “But she’s in the workshop a lot an’ so am I.” He gave Lúcio a grin. “An’ y’know me. Couldn’t shut m’self up if I tried.”

Lúcio wore a grin that was slowly widening. “Are you guys a _thing?”_

Junkrat’s brain short-circuited. “No!” He blurted. “Uh, no. No. Just mates.” He nodded as convincingly as he could. “Just mates.”

Lúcio still looked incredulously delighted. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, mate. I’m sure.” Junkrat had to avert his gaze from Lúcio’s knowing expression.

“So…” Lúcio raised a brow. You what, talked at her until you ended up friends?”

Junkrat considered this for a moment. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Huh.”

Junkrat couldn’t actually tell if Lúcio had bought it or not, but he knew Satya would not be impressed if Lúcio started running his mouth. “Listen, mate. Dunno if y- well, I – fuckin’ – roight, just don’t mention it t’ _anyone_ , okay? She’d kill me.” He trailed off somewhat awkwardly, realising he’d probably just accidentally confirmed it.

Lúcio’s grin widened. “No worries.” His expression was _delighted_ , and Junkrat decided it was high time to change the subject.

“Havn’t y’got files t’read through?” He inquired testily, and Lúcio’s eyes widened in remembrance.

“Oh shit, yeah. Gotta go do that. I’m gonna find Winston. Maybe Jack, too. You coming?”

“Nah, I’m goin’ t’bed.” Junkrat rubbed the back of his neck and raised a brow at Lúcio’s expression. “What?”

“It’s like, ten am, dude.”

“Yeah, an’ I didn’t go t’bed last night.”

Lúcio clapped him on the shoulder. “Fair enough. I’m going to find Winston. Enjoy your nap.”

“Cheers, mate.” Junkrat watched as Lúcio headed off down the hall, and then he headed to his own room, where he shucked off his boot and his prosthetics, climbed out of his shorts and sank gratefully into bed. His eyes were closed, he was comfortable, it was dark and he was safe – and then he found he couldn’t fall asleep. Junkrat managed an annoyed groan – his thoughts were buzzing too loudly inside his skull to let him relax enough to sleep. This wasn’t uncommon – it just pissed him off.

His thoughts drifted back to Satya – Christ, she’d looked so upset. He wanted to do something to help her feel better, but he didn’t know what. She probably wouldn’t let him in again either if he tried – she’d probably think he was smuggling Lúcio in again. Not that it’d been as much of a shitshow as he’d expected, Junkrat reflected. They’d both been civil – well, Satya had looked so desolate Lúcio would have looked like a right dropkick if he’d been cruel to her about it.

At least Lúcio had the files now. Junkrat rubbed idly at the stump of his arm, his fingers running across the raised and scarred flesh as he considered what would happen next. Vishkar was really corrupt, from the sounds of things, and Satya was inconsolable at the idea of what she might have been persuaded to do under their lies – so what would she do now?

She wouldn’t _stay_ with them, would she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay for satya slowly realising!


	52. Hard Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya has a choice to make.

Satya was miserable. She’d spent two days locked in her room, in contact with no one, save Junkrat and Lúcio tricking their way in. She was still kicking herself for doing that – no doubt Lúcio wondered why the hell she’d have let _Junkrat_ in, of all people. The truth was, she’d found the idea of his presence soothing. He had an uncomplicated way of looking at things, and Satya had found the idea of listening to him chatter and distracting her from her thoughts very appealing. Instead, she’d gotten a Junker who looked near ready to pass out on her floor from exhaustion and a DJ badgering her about Rio.

She sighed.

Rio. It made her feel sick to contemplate it, but in the past two days, she’d had lots of space to think about it, and what she was sure of was that Vishkar was corrupt. She had moved on a fraction from blaming herself, seeing as her corporation was evidently rather good at cover-ups and manipulation of the facts. Still, the guilt she felt… Calado’s only crime had been to offer his designs to the mayor, and while Satya still firmly believed that her designs, _Vishkar’s_ designs, were far superior to anything he could have offered, that did not mean he deserved to have his offices burnt to the ground.

And the fire had spread to the favelas… Gods, she felt wretched to think of it. Did Vishkar not care? Had whoever set the charges not considered that there were _people_ right there who were in harm’s way? The very people they were supposed to be helping, too. Well, the fire aside, Vishkar should have completed the project. She couldn’t understand why housing hadn’t been given, not at all. Vishkar had the opportunity to so easily rebuild the favelas, to make them perfect, beautiful, full of light and modern splendour, and yet they hadn’t. They’d punished the dissenters, those who had protested the project, by stopping the architechs from building all together, and by the time Lúcio had stolen Vishkar tech and led the people against them, it had resembled a police state rather than a city.

The guilt she felt… Satya sighed and tilted her head back, her fingers anxiously running across the raised patterns on Junkrat’s patch. She’d hardly let go of it in the last few days; the urge to occupy her fingers so she didn’t go mad was too strong to resist. Her thoughts returned to Rio – the patch couldn’t distract her for long. She had been the one who had presented the proposition to the mayor. She had been the one who had broken into Calado. She might not have planned everything herself, but Gods, she felt awful.

Not only was she miserable, but she was growing rather hungry, having refused to leave her room for the past two days. She just… there was too much going on for her to even contemplate allowing the others to see her and try to speak to her. Well, she felt like she had more of a grip on things now, and… she was rather inclined to find Lúcio and see what he had learnt and thought about the files she had given him. Satya pushed herself up out of her desk chair and went into her bathroom to splash cool water on her face. Once her skin had been patted dry, she eyed herself critically in the mirror.

She looked tired, with dark circles beneath her eyes and a tight, drawn look to her mouth. Satya furrowed her brow and reached for her make-up – at the very least she needed some concealer to make herself at least _feel_ presentable. She went subtle, unable to motivate herself up to a heavier look, and soon she found there was nothing more she needed to do, and she couldn’t really put it off for any longer.

Satya furrowed her brow, straightened her clothes, took a deep breath and opened her door. The corridor was thankfully empty, but she could still run into anyone at any time, and she grimaced at the thought of conversation. It was a little hazardous leaving her room, for clustered outside her door were trays with food on them; Mercy’s attempt to get her to eat. Satya had refused to open the door again after Junkrat springing Lúcio on her, so the trays had remained untouched. She eyed them for a moment, but cold, day old food didn’t appeal to her. She would go to the kitchen instead.

At the end of the corridor, however, she rounded the corner and came face to face with Mercy, who was walking with Genji and talking quietly.

“Satya!” Mercy cried, then lowered her voice. “How are you? How are you feeling?”

Satya self-consciously crossed her arms to grip her elbows. “I am all right.” She said quietly.

“Lúcio showed us all the files you got from Vishkar.” Genji added in. “Must be hard for you, finding that out.”

Satya nodded and avoided their gaze. Lúcio had shown everyone? Gods… everyone would know what a fool she’d been.

“I’m hungry.” She said quietly. “Please excuse me.”

She left Genji and Mercy without another word, feeling their sympathetic gazes boring into her back and it made her want to run back to her room and never come out again. As that wasn’t a viable option without starving to death, she had to go to the kitchen at least.

Blessedly, there was no one in the kitchen, and Satya moved quickly, grabbing some empty tupperware from the pantry to fill with things to take back to her room, to minimise the risk of seeing more people on other food runs. She ate as she did so, buttering a slice of toast, spreading it with a quick layer of strawberry jam and munching on it absently as she contemplated the pantry and the fridge for her raid.

At that moment, the door hissed open behind her and she froze as Hana and Lúcio’s conversation abruptly cut off. Satya remained facing away from them for a long moment, and then turned to face them.

Hana spoke first, her expression a bit uncertain. “Hey, Sym.” She said, giving her a smile. “How are you?”

 _Was everyone going to ask her that?_ “I’m fine.” Satya replied, a little more brusquely than she intended, and turned to pick up her tupperware. “I was just leaving.”

“Wait.”

That was Lúcio, and Satya looked away as she waited for whatever he had to say.

“I’ve read through all those files.” He said, looking very serious. “You wanna… talk about it?”

Satya contemplated telling him no, but decided she might as well get it over with. “Very well.” She said finally, and Lúcio visibly brightened, then gestured towards the dining area. They all sat down at one of the tables, Satya on one side and Lúcio sitting beside Hana on the other. Satya set her tupperware in between them as a buffer, then sat straight and tall, keeping her face impassive, though her fingers twisted anxiously in her lap.

Lúcio began. “I read through everything-” He said, his voice not quite as chipper as it usually was. “-and I owe you an apology.”

Satya’s façade twitched. She hadn’t been expecting that. “What?” She said blankly.

“Look, I’ve said some shit to you, and now I know you didn’t deserve that.” Lúcio looked so earnest it tore at her heart. “I’m really sorry, Symmetra.”

Beside him, Hana was nodding in agreement. “He really is, Sym.” She put in. “Everyone is.”

“Don’t apologise.” Satya said shortly. “I… the fact that I did not know the extent of my actions is no excuse.”

“It _is_ an excuse.” Lúcio interjected. “They lied to you, made you do shit you wouldn’t have done if you’d known.” A sliver of doubt crossed his face. “You wouldn’t have, would you?”

“Gods, no.” Satya said, stung. She leaned back a fraction. “I’m fairly sure the only reason I was lied to was because they knew I would object.”

Lúcio and Hana both looked relieved.

“So I was thinking-” He began, but Hana cut him off.

“ _We_ were thinking.” Hana flashed her a grin, which Satya hesitantly returned. “Everyone was, actually. Ana’s really angry on your behalf. Angela and Rein, too.”

That tugged at something behind her breastbone, and for a moment it was hard to breathe. Everyone here… sometimes she thought they really _cared_.

“Yeah, everyone was thinking-” Lúcio picked up the slack. “-look, I don’t know what your next move is gonna be or if you’ve even thought about maybe deciding to leave, but if you want help, we’re here.”

Satya stared at him for a moment as she processed his words. “…Leave?”

Lúcio looked hesitant. “Well… yeah. I mean, I’m speaking for myself when I say this, but if I found out what you have, I wouldn’t stay.”

_He means I should leave Vishkar._

The words pounded in her ears and Satya spent a moment choking down the panic threatening to clamber up her throat.

“Leave Vishkar.” Satya said faintly. “I… I don’t know.”

Lúcio actually looked dismayed. “Oh.”

Satya didn’t know when his good opinion had become important to her, but she rushed to clarify. “It’s not like that. I – I don’t… you’re right. I can’t in good conscience continue working for Vishkar when they’re so... so _corrupt_ , but…” Her brows drew together and she couldn’t hide the distress on her features. “If I go, what will I do?” Satya clutched her prosthetic to her chest. “They’ll take my arm. I can’t – I _won’t_ risk that.”

She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on their features, and she shot to her feet and grabbed her food before rushing to the exit.

 

* * *

 

Three hours later and Satya was still thinking about Lúcio and what he’d said to her. Unease prickled beneath her skin, because no matter how she turned to face it, she couldn’t deny that he had a point.

She couldn’t stay with Vishkar. Not if they were going to continue lying like this, and not just to her! They were deceiving the world, and she was complicit if she stayed.

Satya rubbed her good fingers anxiously over the palm of her prosthesis, the presence of the crystal lens solid and reassuring. If she tried to leave Vishkar, if she breached her contract, they’d strip her of her arm – if they didn’t send her to re-education first. They’d give her a new arm, of course, but her new prosthetic would be incapable of forming hard light. The crystal lens she could feel right now would be gone, replaced by a smooth-plated metal palm, and she didn’t think she could stand the thought.

To be without her hard light… how could she bear it?

Satya had taken to hard light earlier than most of her peers at the academy, had always found it to be a soothing release and distraction from the world. It was her talent, her _only_ talent. Bharatanatyam didn’t count, not really. That was a hobby. She had no other skills that she could use as a basis for employment. Vishkar had shaped her education around her future as an architech, and the thought of starting afresh at some other, unknown job terrified her.

Satya knew why Vishkar did it, of course. She’d always known; that they provided education, housing, knowledge and employment with the express purpose of keeping the individual with the company forever. Before, it seemed perfectly natural, a safety net provided by the knowledge that she would never be under the pressure of the potential loss of her job, but now it seemed insidious, to say the least.

Satya was now realising the extent of Vishkar’s manipulative hold over her, and she _hated_ it. But what could be done? Nothing could be done. If she went against them she’d lose her arm, her place, her position, her home. Even if Overwatch was kind enough to keep her with them, a Satya with a normal prosthetic was worse than useless to them. Her whole style of combat, her skills, her knowledge and her practicality were all based around her hard light. Without it, she was nothing.

Dead weight.

She had a thought then. Maybe it would be clearer if she spoke to someone more impartial than Lúcio. But who? Inspiration hit her, and she tugged her phone from her pocket to text a certain person whom she thought might be able to offer some advice. She sat with anxious butterflies churning in her stomach until her phone vibrated, and she seized it instantly to check. She was filled with a feeling of pure relief when the message was positive, and when they’d arranged to meet her, she slipped her phone into her pocket, straightened her clothes and set off.

McCree met her in one of the empty conference rooms – actually, he got there first, and she pushed open the door to find him lounging carelessly in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table. He lifted his hat with his thumb when she came in and lowered his feet to the floor so he could sit up properly.

“Howdy.” He said casually, and Satya waited until she had sat carefully in the chair beside him.

“Good afternoon.” She said, her words a little stiff.

“So what didja wanna talk about?” He asked, slipping an unlit cigarillo into his mouth. Satya eyed the tip bobbing about with something close to disgust for a moment.

“I-” She took a deep breath and clenched her fingers in her lap. “I wanted a fresh perspective. I was hoping you might be able to help – to tell me what it’s like to leave one life for another.”

“Ah.” Understanding lit up his eyes. “You know Deadlock and Vishkar are two pretty different kettles of fish?”

“Of course I do.” Satya defended herself. “I just… surely it was difficult for you.”

“It was.” McCree looked contemplative for a moment. “Hang on a tic. Lemme sort m’story out.” Satya obliged him and was silent while he rolled his cigarillo from one side of his mouth to the other, his gaze on the ceiling while he thought. “Right.” He said at last, leaning forwards a bit. “Here’s the go. Didn’t really see it at first but I guess you _can_ say there’s parallels between you and me. Deadlock was a gang, you know that, of course. Reyes picked me up, gave me my second chance, like finding all this out is yours.”

“Did – have you spoken to Lúcio about – about – _it?”_ Satya asked anxiously, suddenly wondering how much he knew.

“I have.” McCree took off his hat and laid it on the table before ruffling his hair slightly. “He came tearin’ in to the rec room day before last, shriekin’ about Vishkar settin’ fires and other shady shit.”

Satya flinched. Gods, what must they think of her?

McCree noticed, and his expression softened. “Now listen, Sym. None of us are blaming you. You’ve been tricked into doing all this shit. It’s not your fault.”

Satya pointedly avoided his gaze as tears pricked at her eyes. “I still did it.”

“Maybe so, but y’can make it right by using what you’ve learned.” He looked very earnest. “Lúcio said something about hopin’ you might leave them – whadaya say?”

“I can’t.” Satya whispered, closing her eyes. “They’d take too much from me.”

McCree was silent for a moment. “Now, how ‘bout you explain that a little more. Just so we’re on the same page.”

Satya essentially repeated what she’d said to Lúcio and Hana that morning. “So you see-” She finished up. “-if I rock the boat in any way, I’ll either get sent to re-education, or they’ll ship me straight into surgery.”

McCree very obviously lost his train of thought. “Surgery?”

“My arm is surgically attached.” Satya said very quietly. “I can’t take it off.”

“Shit.” McCree’s good hand brushed absently over his own prosthetic. “Didn’t think about that. Is it just because or because of the hard light…?”

“It’s because of the hard light.” Satya admitted. “They’re quite complex pieces, these kinds of prosthetics. They have to be connected to the nerves in my shoulder and then I’ve implants in my brain as well.”

McCree started. “ _Really?”_ He sounded very curious. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s how I create physical objects from thought, essentially. Well, it’s a little more complex than that, but that’s the gist of it. I don’t care to publicise the intricacies of it, and Vishkar doesn’t either. The less other people know about the technology, the less chance there is of it being illegally replicated.” Satya offered him a weak smile. “So, you can see that it will be quite… invasive, if Vishkar decides to strip me of my tech.”

McCree’s brow furrowed intensely. “Yeah, I can see that.” He looked contemplative for a moment. “So… you’re gonna ignore all your morals because you don’t want surgery?”

His words stabbed deeply into her heart, and Satya twisted her fingers together anxiously. “ _No_ , I-” She hesitated.

“You’re trying to do too much.” McCree said decisively. “Too much right now, anyway.” He leaned back and splayed a hand over his heart. “I did the same thing. When I left Deadlock, I mean. Wasn’t quite like the choices you’ve got right now, ‘cause I was headin’ straight to jail if I didn’t take Reyes’ offer-”

“But I do risk prison-” Satya interrupted softly. “-If I leave.”

McCree paused, eyeing her for a long moment. “They’d lock you up?”

“If I was still in possession of my prosthetic when I left, yes.” Satya ran her good hand defensively over her metal wrist. “I’d be in breach of contract.”

“Oh.” McCree frowned. “That makes things trickier. What happens if you gave up your arm and then tried to leave?”

Satya swallowed hard. “They might let me do it if re-education didn’t work. But what would I do? Where would I go?”

“Here.” McCree said automatically. “‘Course you’d stay here-”

Her laugh was bitter. “As a _civilian?_ You know as well as I do that all my worth to any organisation is tied to my hard light. Without that, I’m only an ordinary architect! What use does Overwatch have for someone who designs buildings?”

“But you could still stay-”

Satya shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to.” She gave him a bitter smile. “How the mighty have fallen, hm? I couldn’t stand it.”

“Right.” McCree nodded. “So we get you out but you keep your arm.”

“I’d become a criminal overnight.” Satya argued. “Even if they couldn’t take me here, the moment I stepped outside they’d try to get me. I couldn’t live my whole life inside this base.”

“We’ll think of something.” McCree said easily, seemingly with perfect faith that it was doable. Satya was torn between two emotions; pleasure and thankfulness that everyone seemed to care about her enough to try, and fear and frustration that no one here _truly_ understood.

“If you say so.” She said softly. “What were you saying before? About Deadlock?”

“Right.” McCree leaned forwards again, his expression enthusiastic. “It’s hard, makin’ the choice. I went with Reyes because I’d be still buried in some filthy prison today if I hadn’t, but fuck if it wasn’t awful at first. I was still a Deadlock fella at heart, and I was just goin’ through the motions.”

“You must have been young to be a part of it all.”

“I was.” He said easily. “I was a cadet first up.”

That made her smile. “A cadet? I’m having difficulty imagining that.”

McCree broke into a boisterous guffaw. “Damn right!” He grinned at her. “I’ll hafta show you a photo some time. Picture this-” He held up his hands like he was framing a photo. “-scrawny little seventeen-year-old kid, thinkin’ he’s a big man cause he’s got roughly six whiskers, swannin’ about with a cowboy hat and about six times the cocky-ass confidence as woulda been sensible.”

Satya’s smile widened. “I can picture _that_.”

McCree chuckled deeply. “Guess some things don’t change, hey? But let’s get back to m’story. I was doin’ Overwatch shit, trainin’ m’guts out tryin’ to satisfy Reyes and Morrison. I ever told you how much of a hardass they both were? ‘Cause they were. Real pricks, the both of ‘em.” Despite his words, there was fondness to his tone. “Already had peacekeeper – got it durin’ a heist with Deadlock. The bastards took it away from me at Overwatch, told me I had to earn it back.” His face turned indignant with remembered annoyance. “I earned it back, true enough. I could shoot decently, then Ana took me under her wing and taught me all the tricks of the trade. She might like her rifle, but she’s a crack shot with just about anythin’.”

Satya nodded – she could see that.

“But y’know, it was hard. I got into a _lot_ of fights with the other cadets – like I said before, I was still a Deadlock fella at heart. It lasted a coupla months, when Reyes dragged me into his office, sat me down and got all growly. Said that, if I didn’t pull my head in, he was gonna drag me to jail himself. I got all pissed off – which in retrospect was a bad idea – and told Reyes where he could stick it. _Bad_ idea, Jesse. He ripped me a new one and told me that m’biggest problem was that my head and m’heart were in two different places. Well, I thought that was some sappy bullshit, but he was right. M’head was in Overwatch, tryin’ t’toe the line and stay outta prison, but m’heart was still with Deadlock. Same as you, I’d wager. You feelin’ like everything’s telling you to leave Vishkar, but inside you wants to stay with ‘em forever?”

Satya bowed her head. “Yes.”

McCree nodded in satisfaction. “Thought so. What you gotta do is do what I did. You gotta sit down and ask yourself what _you_ want. You can stay or you can go. If you go, Vsihkar’ll chase you but you’ll be with decent people, and you’ll know you won’t be tricked into doing awful shit anymore. If you stay, you’ll be the fancy architech, but who knows what else they’ll make you do?”

Satya nodded. “I- I know. It’s just… hard.”

“No one said it’d be easy.” McCree’s tone had softened. “And we’ll help you.”

“Thank you, McCree, really-”

“Call me Jesse, darlin’.” He said easily. “Known each other long enough, hey?”

She smiled at him. “Thank you – Jesse. You’ve been very helpful. You may call me Satya, if you’d like.”

“Well, hey, Satya’s a pretty name.” He winked at her and chuckled. “But I’m being perfectly serious here, darlin’, if you ever need help, all you gotta do is-”

He was rudely interrupted by her phone ringing. Satya glanced at the caller ID and then gasped in horror. She shot up out of her chair then sat down again, panic swirling through her.

“It’s Sanjay-” She gasped out. “-oh _Gods_ , what am I going to say?”

“Hey now-” McCree gripped her shoulders and made her look at him. “You’ll be fine. Deny as much as you can, and if he pulls out proof pretend it’s a bad connection and hang up on him. You want me to leave?”

“That’d be best.” Satya whispered. “It’s a video call.”

“Right.” McCree rushed towards the door. “You’ll be fine!” He called, and the door shut behind him. Satya forced her face into neutrality and accepted the call with trembling fingers.

“Good afternoon, Sanjay.” She said as calmly as possible, slipping into Sanjay’s native Hindi as she did so, then occupied herself with arranging the phone at a decent angle for the call. Sanjay’s face was sterner than it normally was, and it made her stomach clench.

“Satya.” He said rather brusquely. “How are you?”

“I’m very well, thank you.” Satya offered him one of her polite corporate smiles, hiding her fingers in her lap. “And yourself?”

“Fine.” He looked off to the side and shuffled some paper, and Satya seized on the opportunity to distract him.

“Is there a particular reason for your call? Is it about my report? I know it’s a fraction late-” That was true, she thought with a sinking feeling. She’d gone to Toulouse the day it was due. “-but things have been quite busy lately, and I can assure you, I’ll have it done by this afternoon.”

“That is welcome news.” Sanjay’s expression was a little calculating. “I had wondered why I’d heard nothing from you, but that is not why I called.”

He said nothing for a long moment, so Satya decided to fill the gap, hoping it would distract him, if he was indeed about to grill her about Toulouse. “I had an email from Haripriya the other day, letting me know that the development in Germany has been approved. I was surprised to hear it. I thought there was some opposition to the site?”

It worked; Sanjay was distracted, if only for a moment. “It has, yes. I didn’t have anything to do with it, but I believe we made a significant donation to the political party there.”

His words were casual and not at all out of the ordinary; it was something she’d heard many times before, but it had never struck her just _how_ much it sounded like bribery before. She found herself feeling slightly sickened at the thought.

“I see. I’m glad we were able to make them see sense.” Words she’d spoken many times over, but now Satya felt hollow at their taste on her tongue.

“Indeed. Construction began about three days ago, and it appears to be a promising start.”

“That is good news.” Satya said softly. “I wish Haripriya all the best with her project.”

“Mm.” Sanjay was gazing at her again with something rather contemplative in his eyes, and Satya shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Tell me, how are things in Utopaea?” She asked. “I do miss it.”

“Very well, I believe.” Sanjay thought for a moment. “I was last there about a fortnight ago, actually. We had a meeting. You’d have been there if you were in India.”

“The hazards of travelling for work.” Satya said with a laugh.

“Indeed.” Sanjay tilted his head for a moment. “Speaking of travelling...”

He paused, and the silence was the most dangerous thing she’d ever heard. Satya was frantically scrabbling for something to say, something to change the topic, but he continued.

“Did you enjoy your trip to Toulouse?”

 _Oh, Gods._ Satya fought to control her expression. Jesse had said to deny it, but she couldn’t deny this. Not if they _knew_. “I did, yes.”

Sanjay raised a brow. “May I ask why you took an unauthorised trip there?”

“Unauthorised?” Satya made herself laugh an airy laugh. “Why unauthorised? I was under the impression that I had full rein in my professional capacity whilst at Overwatch.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly, and her palms began to sweat. “So you went there for _Overwatch?_ What possible reason could they have to require Vishkar data?”

 _This_ was where she had to be careful. “I was asked to collect some data.” She said delicately, and on the little screen before her, Sanjay’s eyes narrowed further.

“Who asked you?” He demanded.

“Well… to put it simply, Winston has been conducting research into hostile omnic activity worldwide, which I dare say you know already. He is searching for patterns. I was asked to supplement his data. He wants to do some comparisons.” That was the most ridiculous yet plausible excuse ever concocted. There was _no way_ he’d accept it.

“I see.” Sanjay looked contemplative. “And you didn’t ask for permission because…?”

“I did not believe I had to.” Satya tried to make her expression seem innocent. “My directive was to aid Overwatch in any way that I could. I have full authorisation, and I was only gathering some pertinent files.”

“Hmm.” The Sanjay on her screen looked slightly annoyed. “And this data you required, it had to do with Rio de Janeiro?” He said the last three words very slowly, and Satya just knew this was a trap. They _knew_.

She lifted her chin. “Yes.” There was little point in denying it now. “Lúcio has-”

 _“Lúcio?”_ Sanjay’s voice was sharp and worried. “The Brazilian thief? What’s he been saying to you?”

 _Ah_. There it was. Sanjay was _in_ on it. He was worried about what she knew. Satya concealed her thoughts behind an expression of open surprise. “Lúcio? Talking to _me?_ He hasn’t been. I don’t associate with him.”

Sanjay still looked tense. “But you just said-”

“He has raised concerns with Winston. Not about me, about the omnic presence in Rio.” Satya invented wildly, hoping against hope that Sanjay would buy it. “I suppose he’s within his rights to be concerned for his city, and Winston knows that Vishkar had a presence in Rio. It was Winston who wished to know if we’d have any useful data.”

“I see.” Sanjay looked a fraction calmer, though still suspicious. “The thief has never mentioned Rio to you?”

“Only when making the most ridiculous accusations.” Satya arranged a dismissive expression on her face. “Did you know, he accused Vishkar of turning Rio into a police state? The man is full of absurdities.”

Sanjay looked a little taken aback. “Er, yes.” He cleared his throat. “Absurd. Did he give a reason for his claims?”

“From what I can tell, it is simply born of a dislike of Vishkar.” Satya said curtly. “He seems to have been of the same mindset as the protestors. You recall them? I still don’t understand their perspective.” She shrugged carelessly. “Still, it hardly matters anymore. We gave them housing and improved all their lives. Lúcio has no reason to complain.”

“Of course.” Sanjay was now looking more pleased. “Of course we did. But why did you go to Toulouse? You could have logged into our databanks from Gibraltar, surely.”

“Well, yes, I could, but you see-” Satya leaned forwards a fraction and made her voice sound confidential. “-I told Winston that these particular files were only available at Toulouse.”

Sanjay looked alarmed. “Why?”

“I wanted to see something familiar again.” Satya made her smile appear sheepish. “The people here… well, they have not been unkind to me, not in the slightest, but they are very different to Vishkar. I simply wished to be back in the environment I am most used to.”

Sanjay’s expression relaxed. “Ah, of course. You in _particular_ must feel the loss of a familiar routine.”

Satya wondered if using her autism as an excuse was ethical; either way, if it worked, she didn’t much care.

“Exactly. It was very pleasant to be back at Vishkar, if only for a day.”

Maybe she was home free. Maybe they didn’t suspect a thing. Maybe she’d just talked her way out of it-

“Have you heard from Ojasin recently?”

The carelessly asked question made her freeze.

“Ojasin?” Satya tried to shape her expression into something casual. “No, not for a long while. Why?”

“He was in Toulouse the same day as you were, apparently.”

 _Apparently?_ They’d picked up on her using Ojasin’s credentials after all. Oh Gods, oh Gods, oh _Gods_.

“Was he?” Satya tried for innocence. “I didn’t see him.”

“It’s rather strange, actually.” Sanjay mused. “He was present in Toulouse, but he was also in a meeting in Utopaea at the same time.”

 _Oh no_. “But that’s impossible, surely.” Satya tried to look as confused an innocent as possible.

“You would _think_ so.” Sanjay eyed her, his expression piercing. “It seems we’ve had a breach of security. Ojasin’s credentials have been stolen.”

“Is it known who stole them?” Satya inquired as she wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt.

“Not _yet_.” Sanjay’s voice couldn’t have been more accusatory if he’d tried. “But we have our suspicions.”

“I see. Well, I hope this person is caught before they take anyone else’s credentials.” Satya offered, terror brewing in her gut.

“Indeed.” Something flashed from off-screen and Sanjay looked grave. “Ah, I have to take this call, Satya. I’ll be in touch.”

Satya barely held her composure as she said her farewell and ended the call; she lasted a second before she made an involuntary noise of distress and buried her face in her hands, then leaned down to rest her forehead on the table.

The door opened behind her and though Satya tensed, she didn’t look up. Whoever came in sat down beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. Satya jumped at the contact, and looked up, hastily raising a hand to dash away the tears that threatened to run down her face.

“Here, tell me what’s happened.” Ana looked at her so comfortingly Satya almost burst into tears on the spot. Behind the sniper, McCree was lurking and wearing a worried expression. At her questioning gaze, he shrugged helplessly.

“Ran into Ana when I was leavin’ before. She insisted on comin’ t’see ya.”

“Oh.” Satya wiped her eyes again. “Th-thank you.”

Ana looked at her for a long moment, then unexpectedly, reached out and pulled her into a hug. Satya was stiff for a moment before everything overwhelmed her and she began to sob into Ana’s shoulder, her fingers gripping the older woman’s sleeves tightly.

“What’s happened?” Ana asked again. “What have they said?”

Satya tried to rein in her sobs but failed miserably. “They _know_.” She cried. “They know what I was in Toulouse for.” The most awful realisation was brewing in her gut… even if she overlooked Rio, even if she stayed, she would still be punished for this. “That was a mistake… I’ve made a mistake… I shouldn’t have gone!” Satya choked on her tears for a moment. “I can’t go back now! Even if I ignore Rio, they’ll punish me for this! They’ll send me to re-education!” I – I – I-”

“All right now, that’s enough.” Ana interjected firmly, stroking Satya’s hair softly. “You won’t be going back to them if that’s what they’re going to do.”

“They won’t accuse me, they would never do that.” Satya shook her head fiercely. “That’s not their style. They’d wait until I let my guard down in India and then they’d… they’d ask me to attend a meeting or something of the sort. Only, it wouldn’t really be a meeting.”

“That won’t happen.” Ana said, her voice calm and confident. “Winston will come up with something, you needn’t worry-”

“Winston!” Satya gasped and jerked out of Ana’s grasp. “Where is he?”

“The lab, I reckon.” McCree said. “But why-”

“Sanjay will call him.” Satya shot up out of her chair. “I lied to him and I think he knows that, and he’ll call Winston to corroborate my story. I have to warn him – I have to let him know what to say!”

Without further ado, Satya scurried from the room and rushed towards Winston’s laboratory. She burst in the door and found him chatting to Tracer, and they both looked startled at her entrance.

“Symmetra, is something wrong?” Winston asked, alarm in his tone. From her perch on top of a bench, Tracer looked similarly worried.

“No – that is, have you heard from Sanjay?” Satya gasped out, trying to catch her breath.

“Sanjay? No.” Winston stood up. “What’s this about?”

“I just spoke to him.” Satya attempted to gather her composure, straightening her back and smoothing her clothes. “He knows what I went to Toulouse for, and though he didn’t outright accuse me, I have no doubt he’ll call you to verify what I told him and catch me out on a lie.”

“What’d you tell ‘im?” Tracer chimed curiously.

“He knows I took files regarding Rio. I said that you had been looking into the omnic threat to some cities, and that Lúcio had been concerned about Rio.” Satya paused to take a deep, calming breath. “I told Sanjay that you had asked if I could gather Vishkar’s notes on the subject so you could make comparisons with your own data.”

Winston removed his glasses so he could polish them, exchanged a look with Tracer and replaced the cleaned lenses on his face before replying. “That’s a decent enough alibi, I suppose. Athena, did you get all that?”

“I did.” The AI responded. “Agent Lúcio was concerned for Rio de Janeiro. Agent Lúcio inquired to Winston with regards to the omnic presence within the city. Winston then asked agent Symmetra for Vishkar’s data to identify any anomalies. Agent Symmetra then went to Vishkar’s Toulouse headquarters to collect said data.”

Satya nodded, relieved. “Yes, that’s it. Please, don’t let Sanjay know otherwise.”

Winston sighed slightly. “I’ve had lots of practice fudging what I say when speaking to the UN.” He said with a grin. “I shouldn’t have too much trouble sticking to my story.”

“Thank you, Winston.” Satya said earnestly. “I’m sorry to put you in this position, but-”

“No need to thank me.” Winston looked sympathetic. “You’re in a tough situation and we’ll help you out with whatever you might need.”

Gods, they were too _kind_ to her.

Satya left Winston’s lab not long after that, her fears eased but not abolished. She went back to her room to think and ended up pacing for quite a while, then decided she needed to speak to Lúcio again. McCree and Sanjay had both, in their own way, helped her solidify things, and… no matter how much she wanted to do the right thing, that wasn’t going to do her any good if it landed her in prison.

It was with a sinking feeling in her stomach that Satya sighed and picked up her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found Lúcio’s number. She dithered for a while but finally texted him, and when she had his reply she stood and headed out to where they had agreed to meet.

Satya reached the bridge connected to the launch pad first, and braced herself against the railing for a few minutes, staring out at the see, lost in thought until Lúcio’s voice sounded behind her.

“Symmetra?”

Turning to face him, Satya brushed her hair out of her eyes and gathered her thoughts.

“Lúcio.” She said quietly. “Thank you for coming.”

“No worries.” He said, his expression slightly confused. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, among other things.” Satya began. “And I realise now I owe you an apology.”

He looked startled. “What? Nah-”

“I do.” Satya insisted, taking a step forwards. “I’m not exactly talking about Rio, though for that I am more sorry than I can say. I mean how I’ve treated you.”

Lúcio rubbed the back of his neck. “I haven’t exactly been nice to you, either-”

“I know.” Satya tilted her head. “But that was surely exacerbated by how I treated you. I… believe I have a tendency to look down upon people sometimes.”

Lúcio raised his brows. “That’s putting it lightly.” He muttered, and cringed when she winced. “No, no, I don’t mean it like that…” He trailed off.

“I’m not offended.” Satya offered. “I know that I judge people. It’s a bad habit of mine, but I’ve judged you unfairly.” She paused and offered him a snide look. “You _are_ a thief, but for everything else you’ve been justified, and I would not have treated you like that if I had known. I’m sorry.”

Lúcio grinned at her tentatively. “Apology accepted.”

Satya offered him a slight smile in return. “Which brings me to my next point. I’ve been thinking. _Truly_ thinking, and… I think I would leave Vishkar.”

Lúcio’s grin was wide and infectious, but she couldn’t smile in return.

“That’s great!”

“If I could.” Satya looked away, back out at the ocean, where a cool breeze was stirring. It kissed her temples and made her shiver slightly before dissolving to nothingness. “But I can’t.”

Lúcio watched her for a long moment, then turned to look at the ocean like she was. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed.” He said bitterly. “Thought you were better than that.”

Satya turned to face him, a flash of anger kindling in her stomach. “ _How dare you_.” She hissed. “Do you realise what you’re asking me to give up?”

His expression was guarded. “I know-”

“You don’t.” Satya interrupted, glaring. “My arm. You think, perhaps, that it wouldn’t be so bad. I could get a replacement – after all, it isn’t like prosthetic limbs are in short supply with Angela and Torbjörn around. But it isn’t just that.” She stared at him, knowing her expression was pleading. She just needed him to _understand_. “It’s my whole _life_ , Lúcio. Without my hard light, I am nothing. My entire career is based around my hard light – I could be a regular architect, possibly, but all my knowledge revolves around building with hard light.” Satya looked down. “I would have to leave Overwatch. Without my hard light, I would be no better than a civilian. Certainly, I would be of no use to anyone here.”

“Symmetra-” Lúcio began, but she turned and put her back to him.

“If I left Vishkar, I would lose my apartment in Utopaea.” She continued. “I’d lose my social standing, my income, my transport, I-” She took a deep breath and sought to calm her emotions, before she turned back to him. “I don’t think you realise just how deeply Vishkar is intertwined in my life.”

Lúcio looked at her. “So tell me.” He said simply, and that surprised her. She hadn’t thought he’d want to listen to her excuses.

Satya was quiet for a long moment, then turned to face the sea once more as Lúcio came to stand beside her, leaning against the railing. She took a deep breath before she began.

“It is a long story.” Satya looked down at her prosthesis, flexed her metal fingers and sighed. “I will condense it for you. I have been with Vishkar since I was eight. They took me from my parents and I haven’t seen them in twenty years.” Lúcio opened his mouth, looking horrified, but she held up a hand and he shut it with a snap. “They own my apartment entirely. I don’t pay rent, but my skill as an architech _is_ my rent. My money is in a Vishkar owned bank. I don’t own a car – my transport is arranged through the company. My education was based around my future as an architech – I don’t _know_ anything else.” Satya tipped her head to the side and gave him a questioning stare. “Do you want to know why I so earnestly believed what Vishkar could provide was the best for Rio?”

Lúcio nodded, his expression a bit cautious. “Why?”

“You and I more alike than you might think.” Satya looked down, past the railing to the ground, a long way beneath them. “You call them favelas. In my language, we call them _murikiv_ _āḍ_ _alal_ _ō_.” Her smile was bitter as she turned to look Lúcio in the eyes. “You are not the only person who was born in a slum.”

Lúcio looked astonished _. “What?”_

“Where I grew up… it was hideous.” Satya fiddled anxiously with her hair. “Dark and crowded, filthy and overflowing with desperate people who had nowhere else to go. Then Vishkar found me, and they took me to _paradise_. Utopaea was smaller then, but it was so clean, so fresh, so full of light. They told me that what they had done for me I could do for others if I trained to be an architech. So I did, and for twenty years that’s what I thought I had been doing.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I didn’t understand why the people in Rio were protesting. Why wouldn’t they want to live in paradise? I thought I was _helping_ them. No squalor, no filth… just perfection. I realise now that there was more to the story, but… I hope you can understand where I was coming from.”

Lúcio was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t know.” He said finally, and Satya sighed.

“I’ve never shared my past willingly. Many people in India, especially the older generations, tend to judge based on wealth and situation. I’ve always felt that my success wouldn’t have been so easily gained had I publicised my upbringing.” She paused for a moment. “I was all but illiterate when Vishkar found me. They gave me _everything_ decent in my life.” Satya paused for a moment. “I hope you can see why it’s not a decision I can make lightly.” She said quietly. “I feel nothing but guilt when I think of Rio, but if I left… it would ruin my life.”

His expression turned thoughtful. “What if there _was_ a way? Would you do it?”

Satya hesitated. “I’d like to say I would. I believe I would do the right thing… but it would be hard.” She hesitated again, hating the butterflies that sprang up in her belly. “I – I sometimes find it hard to adjust to new things. A whole new life would be difficult, I-”

“But if there _was_ a way?” Lúcio interrupted, and Satya wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved or not that he was obviously not listening. She frowned at him.

“There isn’t.” She said morosely. “Do you think Vishkar would risk hard light being marketed by someone other than them? It is their most closely guarded secret. They’d never allow me to keep my arm if I left. They’d drown me in lawyers the second they realised they couldn’t convince me to stay.”

“Yeah, but-” Lúcio bit his knuckle, looking deep in thought. “Wait. You tellin’ me they aren’t gonna ask you about Toulouse?”

Satya felt sick. “They have.” She said unevenly. “Just before. Sanjay called me.”

“And?”

“I think they suspect me, and that is fair enough. I have _stolen_ information and _lied_ to my superiors and – and-” Satya took a deep breath. Lúcio was looking indignant, and she didn’t exactly blame him. “I’m sure they’ll reprimand me for this. They’ll send me to re-education, but that’s really what I deserve. I shouldn’t have stolen from them-”

“ _Symmetra_.” Lúcio reached out, grabbed her shoulders and shook her lightly. Satya stared at him, shocked into silence. “Wait. _Think_ about this. Do you realise how deeply they’ve got their hooks into you? _This isn’t normal._ No normal, ethical company is gonna punish their employees the way you’re talking about. Normal companies aren’t manipulative like Vishkar is!” He shook her again. “Don’t you _see_ that? They’re _manipulating_ you.”

Satya took a step back, out of his grasp. “I don’t – they aren’t-”

“They _are_.” Lúcio took another step forwards, his face serious. “Please, please understand just how wrong what they’re doing is. All they’re doing is using you.”

Satya hated it, but… he was right. Gods, how could she deny it? She wanted to deny it, but… she could see it. Vishkar _was_ using her. “But I can’t leave.” Satya’s words were choked, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “They won’t let me.”

Lúcio frowned. “All right, hang on. Let me-” His voice trailed off, and then he shook his head. “Never mind. Okay, would you believe me if I said I had an idea?”

The furrow between her brows deepened. “You couldn’t possibly. It can’t be done.”

“It can.” He said firmly.

Irritation prickled within her. “Don’t be absurd. I don’t wish to offend you but I know Vishkar and you don’t. It can’t be done.”

Lúcio eyed her for a long moment. “But you don’t know them, do you?” He asked. “They’ve been concealing things and manipulating you. You don’t know them at all.”

Satya clenched a hand at her throat and turned away. “That doesn’t change anything. It can’t be done.”

Lúcio looked contemplative. “I _think_ it can. I’ve just gotta… look-” He was already hurrying away. “-I’ve gotta find Winston. I’ll let you know if this’ll work!”

Satya stared after him for a long moment, then turned to face the sunset. There was a curious feeling lodged beneath her breastbone, and as the cool sea breeze kissed her temples, Satya realised what it was. It was fear.

“It can’t be done.” She repeated, eyes on the setting sun. “It can’t be.”

 

* * *

 

On her way back to her room, Satya turned a corner and found Genji speaking to Zenyatta.

“Symmetra.” Zenyatta turned to face her. “I have been wishing to speak to you.”

Satya turned to face him with a curious expression on her face. “Me? What for?”

“I know you have not been having an easy time lately.” Zenyatta hovered a little closer. “May I offer you anything?”

“Thank you.” Satya offered the omnic a heartfelt smile. “I do appreciate it, though I am not certain if you can do anything.”

“Ah.” Zenyatta floated a little closer. “Then perhaps it is not what I can do, but what I can give you.” One of the orbs that floated gently in orbit around him detached from its circle and floated towards her. “Perhaps this will help you find clarity of mind.”

Satya watched the orb as it gently started a new orbit around her head, then smiled at the omnic. “Thank you.”

After leaving Zenyatta and Genji, Satya was making her way to her room when her path took her past the workshop. She hesitated for a moment, but opened the door and went in. There were a number of people in there already, and they all looked up at her when she went in. Junkrat was sprawled on the floor beside Roadhog, a screwdriver in his mouth and a bomb in his hands. Brigitte was inspecting a crack in Reinhardt’s armour, with the owner of said armour rubbing his beard thoughtfully and nodding along to what she was saying. Torbjörn was on the phone to someone, possibly his wife, judging from the fact he was speaking in Swedish; his family had returned home last Friday.

Junkrat looked up as she entered, and the screwdriver nearly fell out of his mouth as he grinned at her, looking so genuinely pleased to see her it almost hurt – until he saw Zenyatta’s orb, whereupon his smile was replaced with a narrow-eyed look of pure suspicion.

Satya fielded everyone’s questions and _welcome back’s_ and soon escaped into the sanctuary that was the storage room, feigning a need to seek out some supply or other. She stayed in there for quite a while, feeling at war with herself. It wasn’t that she never wanted to speak to any of them again; it was the mingled feeling of shame and resentment that was eating at her, and the knowledge that they were looking at her and thinking about her and _judging_ her. Well, she didn’t know if they were judging her, exactly, but her anxiety told her that they were, and she was finding it hard at the current moment to hold a proper conversation. She’d held a conversation with Lúcio, but that was different. He knew the _facts_. And McCree, well, she’d sought him out herself. Everyone else… well, it was different. Satya had no doubt that in time she’d feel comfortable again, but at that moment, she couldn’t.

She spent a while in the storage room trying to sort herself out, and had mostly succeeded by the time the door opened behind her. Satya froze over the top of the spare blueprint paper, which was going to be her excuse for entering the storage room in the first place, but relaxed slightly at the step- _clank_ which announced Junkrat’s presence.

“G’day.”

“Hello.” Satya looked over her shoulder briefly to make sure he was alone, which thankfully he was, before turning back to the blueprint paper, feigning shuffling through the stacks as if looking for a particular piece. A moment later and she registered his narrowed eyes, and turned back to him. “Is something the matter?”

“What’s that bot doin’ t’ya?” Junkrat’s eyes were on the orb lazily orbiting her head. “Can take it out if it’s botherin’ ya-”

“It isn’t.” Satya interrupted. “It’s – helping.” And it was – she was beginning to feel very much at peace and much more relaxed, despite the worry eating at her.

“Oh.” Junkrat’s expression told her he very much doubted Zenyatta’s orbs could ever be of any help to anyone, but he bit his lip and kept quiet as his gaze drifted down to meet her eyes. There was a brief and quiet moment during which she could almost hear Junkrat gauging her silence and clearly wondering what to say next.

“Are y-”

“If you were going to ask me if I am alright, I would advise you to think the better of it.” Her words were sharper than she’d meant them to be, and Junkrat stepped back a fraction.

“Oh. Roight. Sorry. Guess I’ll uh, go over here then.” He moved off to the side, to where he kept the casings and parts Winston had shipped in for him, and began rifling noisily through the boxes.

Satya sighed slightly. She moved quietly towards him and folded her arms. “I’m sorry.” She said softly, knowing that he was fully aware of her presence. “I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that no one seems to be able to think of anything else to say to me.”

Junkrat turned to face her. “Well, guess I’ll hafta think of somethin’ else t’say.”

Satya managed a small smile. “I hope so.”

He very deliberately looked around, obviously searching for a conversation topic. “So yer lookin’ for yer blue paper.” Junkrat tipped his head towards the spare blueprints. “Whatcha gonna make?”

Satya sucked in a breath, held it, then gave him a sheepish smile. “Nothing. It was mostly an excuse.”

His grin widened. “Yeah? That’s a shame.”

Satya raised a brow. “Indeed? Were you hoping for something?”

His grin widened further. “‘S only fair.”

Satya arched her brow higher, fully giving herself over to this strange little conversation. It beat wallowing in misery. “Oh? Just how do you figure that?”

Junkrat shrugged a shoulder casually. “Y’got two things off me now. Dunno ‘bout you, but I reckon that’s a bit unfair.”

Her brows drew together, but Satya folded her arms and cocked her hip to the side as she lifted her chin. “Two? What do you mean?” She racked her brains trying to think of things he’d given her. His patch, which happened to be in her pocket, immediately sprang to mind… but what was the other?

Junkrat took a step forward, gave Zenyatta’s orb a cautious glance, then advanced another step. Satya held her ground, tilting her chin up further so she could see his face. His metal hand dipped down, attracting her attention as he patted one of the patches adoring his worn and slightly singed shorts. She very deliberately looked away, and Junkrat sniggered delightedly.

“That doesn’t count.” She said snippily, still avoiding his gaze. “You gave it to me.”

“After y’stole it.” Junkrat countered, and Satya looked back to him, outraged.

“Stole?! I didn’t – I – I-” She trailed off, because she didn’t exactly have a solid defence for that one, and from the grin on Junkrat’s face, he knew it. “Well, that’s only one thing.”

She disliked the smug expression on his face so she spun and headed back to stand in front of the shelf with the blueprints. Unfortunately, Junkrat followed.

“Two.” He said, then tilted his head and gazed over the top of her head. “Dontcha reckon that’s a dumb way fer Torb t’keep that rack set up?”

Startled at this sudden change in topic, Satya looked to her left, at where Torbjörn kept a rack of spare tools. There didn’t seem to be anything strange about it, and she was about to ask him when he’d lost his mind when she realised he was no long standing beside her. Satya furrowed her brow for a moment as she watched Junkrat whistle a jaunty tune as he sifted through some mine casings on the other side of the room, and then she turned back to her shelf in confusion and – _oh_.

Sitting on top of the sheaf of paper was something that _definitely_ hadn’t been there thirty seconds before. Two small spheres, one blue and one red. Satya reached out and hesitantly picked them up; as she scooped them into her palm, they clinked gently together.

“Better make that three.”

Satya furrowed her brow as Junkrat spoke, his tone delighted, but she didn’t reply for the moment. The little blue shell was the one she had painted the night she’d fallen asleep with Junkrat in the workshop, and she brushed her thumb over the little white diamond that decorated the smooth surface. The other was all Junkrat; painted crimson, with a smile filled with jagged teeth eyeing her from one side.

She turned to face him, though he still had his back to her.

“All right.” She said thoughtfully. “I concede.”

His shoulders hunched briefly in obvious glee before he turned to face her. “Yeah? Glad we’re in agreement then. Looks like y’owe me.”

That distracted her from the line of thought she’d been intending to pursue. “Oh? You think so?”

Junkrat’s lips hitched into a crooked grin. “Yep. Shouldn’t make deals with mercs, Sat.” His grin widened and one brow arched. “We’re all for what we can get.” He whispered conspiratorially.

Satya raised a brow and sauntered towards him, her air vaguely threatening. It only seemed to make him smile wider, and she realised that there was a part of her that deeply enjoyed that fact. “I suppose I should have got it in writing.” Junkrat nodded, grinning, and she continued. “And to think I bought you a milkshake.”

 _That_ made him laugh, his shoulders hunching as he giggled. “Just goes t’show, ay?”

“It certainly does.” Satya supressed a smile and clinked the little shells in her palm once more. “Thank you, Jamison. You’ve been an excellent distraction.”

“Oh, yeah?” He mock narrowed his eyes then. “Don’t think yer gonna distract _me_. Y’still owe me.”

“Owe you what?”

Junkrat seemed to pause at her question, his gaze dipping down to roam along her body before drifting back up to her face. “Well, I dunno yet.” He said quietly, his voice suddenly lacking the mirthful quality in favour of something much deeper. “I’ll let y’know when I think of it.”

Satya bit her lower lip lightly as Junkrat’s gaze focused on her mouth and his eyes darkened. It was suddenly quite warm in this cramped little room. She was completely forgetting the total fit Sanjay would be throwing if he knew she was letting herself owe a _Junker_ favours; instead, she was consumed by the mystery of what exactly he was planning on asking her for.

She weighed the two little grenades in her grasp. “Thank you for the shells.” She murmured in his general direction, then turned to grab a stack of blueprint paper at random before hurrying back into the workshop to sit at her desk. The feeling of ease she’d felt with him had morphed into something which made butterflies flit around in her stomach, and Satya wasn’t sure which sensation she preferred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well its been a while since I updated bc I was on holidays w no internet but here is the next chapter! (finally)
> 
> i'm so keen for the next chapters you guys like damn everything is happening at once


	53. The Shambali

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat finds himself on his way to omnic territory

Thursday began with a meeting, a briefing in which Winston seemed frowning and distracted. The sight made Junkrat feel excited; perhaps there would be a mission soon, a chance for him to get out of the base, breathe the fresh air, and blow some Talon bastards or some bots to smithereens. He and Roadhog had arrived late to the meeting, and Winston had stopped speaking as they ambled in, and had waited for them to take their seats at the back of the room, where Mullock promptly curled up in his Junkrat’s lap and went to sleep.

“Now that _everyone_ is here-” Winston had said pointedly. “-perhaps we can start this over. For the benefit of any newcomers, we have a new mission of sorts.”

Junkrat had brightened at this. _Finally_ , a mission where he could blow shit up and let off steam. It’d be good for everyone really – with all the Vishkar drama going on, the base was feeling a bit off.

“Zenyatta?” Winston continued, as if inviting him to speak, and Junkrat’s grin immediately turned to a frown. _What’s the bot got t’do with anythin’?_

Zenyatta spoke from where he hovered beside Genji, and Junkrat eyed him with distaste. He’d been avoiding being in the same room as the bot since Christmas eve, even resorting to ducking into other rooms and at one stage, into a cupboard to hide. Zenyatta wanted to talk again, to try and make bots seem sympathetic; if he didn’t stop, Junkrat was gonna end up shoving a grenade right in between those ‘enlightened’ eyes of his.

“Thank you, Winston.” Zenyatta inclined his head. “I am sure you have all been paying close attention to the resurgence of omnics in the east and their… less than peaceful actions. I have also been watching, and I am concerned for my brothers at the monastery. This morning, I received a distress call from my good friend Dhanyatta. My brothers have been fenced in by omnics with nothing but the worst intentions, and though it gives me pain to bring harm to others of my kind, I must ask your assistance in driving them back. My fellow monks are not fighters, and they are surrounded by a considerable force. Without aid, they would be swiftly overrun.”

Junkrat listened in a kind of shock. The bot wanted them to fight bots… so they could save _other_ bots? _Absurd_. 

“Wait, wait, why are these omnics attacking the Shambali, though?” Tracer asked. “I thought they wanted to destroy _humans_ , not other omnics.”

Zenyatta inclined his head. “A valid question. Yesterday, Dhanyatta received an emissary from them, inviting them to join the cause or be destroyed. My brothers believe in balance and therefore have decided to remain neutral, even if this choice leads to their deaths. There are shields around the monastery but these will not hold forever, which is why I must ask you, my friends, to help me.”

Junkrat rolled his eyes as he absently scratched under Mullock’s chin. _Friends._ In his fuckin’ _dreams_.

“May I ask-” Reinhardt interjected cautiously. “-if you share this view of neutrality?”

Zenyatta hesitated. “I do not.” He said finally. “My brothers are saddened by this new crisis but they believe it will eventually end, one way or another. I do not agree. I believe that the Shambali has the power to help put a stop to the war, but they will not use it.”

Roadhog shifted slightly, and Junkrat could tell from his body language that his friend was thoroughly unimpressed. Junkrat was similarly unimpressed. These bots could be helping to stopped this new Omnic Crisis, but they hadn’t? For _what?_ Some bullshit holier-than-thou attitude that meant they had to be _impartial?_ Junkrat folded his arms, sank into his chair, and fumed.

“So we go, we kick ass.” McCree took over the conversation, nodding as though it were decided. “If those other omnics are movin’ in, we ought to get goin’.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Jesse.” Ana said, arms folded, and then she jerked her head towards where Junkrat and Roadhog were sitting. Junkrat scowled back at her.

“Ah.” Winston polished his glasses for a moment. “Good point, Ana. I think we’ll make this mission non-obligatory. Anyone with… _objections_ , for any reason, needn’t go. It’ll make things easier.”

This was so totally and obviously a ploy to get him and Roadie to stay behind that Junkrat saw red, opened his mouth, and began to object.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, he was sitting in the belly of the dropship, his bombs confiscated by 76 and strapped into the seat beside him to prevent Junkrat from getting his hands on them. After a fair bit of arguing, they’d sorted things out – Junkrat was going to the Shambali because there was no way in hell he was gonna miss the chance to blow up some bots. And the _lectures_ – he was still furiously pissed off with everyone, because they’d all treated him like a damn child. _You mustn’t do this, you mustn’t do that, you musn’t hurt the good omnics, Junkrat – feh_. As if there were any such thing as _good_ bots.

He’d made his point well enough, and so had Roadhog and Torbjörn, the only other sensible people in the base with omnic related bones to pick, and all three of them were coming along on the mission, alongside everyone else. Despite Winston keeping things ‘non-obligatory’, everyone was coming, and to Junkrat’s irritation, it appeared to be because they all liked Zenyatta too much to turn down his request. Well, he’d heard Winston say something about ‘needing to keep world peace by keeping human-omnic relations safe’ but Junkrat disregarded this. It meant he couldn’t be quite as pissed off.

Besides, he and Hog had something of an ulterior motive. They’d heard of the Shambali before – heard of how nice a place it was, and as a monastery, well. Didn’t those things have antiques and expensive things? It sure would be a shame if some of those things went missing in the heat of battle. Sure would a shame if those missing things ended up in his and Hog’s pocket. Sure would be a shame if those things then got sold for a nice tidy sum.

Junkrat had been to China and Japan with Roadie before getting contacted by Winston to join Overwatch; they’d been to a few temples there, and looted some _very_ nice stuff. A monastery wasn’t quite the same as a temple, probably, but he reckoned there’d still be some shit worth stealing to make up for the fact that he couldn’t blow up some of the bots. Any bots wearing monk robes like Zenyatta did were not to be touched, he’d been informed. And re-informed. And again after that. It was almost like no one trusted him.

Tracer’s voice came over the loudspeaker then, informing them that they’d just left Spain’s airspace.

Junkrat scowled; this was going so _slowly_. He was seated next to Roadhog, of course, and McCree sat on his other side, idly toying with an unlit cigarillo. Hanzo was sitting on McCree’s right, and the two were softly chatting. Junkrat wasn’t chatting to anyone, mainly because Roadhog wasn’t replying. The great fat bastard had his snout buried in a book and wasn’t in a talkative mood.

Junkrat peered around the ship, looking for something interesting to occupy his attention without attempting to get his bombs back from 76, which would probably go badly. Not to mention, him fiddling with explosives on the dropship tended to make the others twitchy. Not that he understood that. Everyone else had ended up agreeing to go – even Satya. There were some who’d asked her if she had better not stay behind, but he’d heard her telling Ana that she wanted the distraction, which he reckoned was fair enough.

He could see her from where he was sitting; she had her legs crossed, and in that uniform he certainly didn’t mind the view, but she still looked tired. At least her expression was more contemplative now, rather than utterly shattered, and occasionally she spoke softly to Ana or Mercy, who sat beside her.

Junkrat started bouncing his leg, tipping his head back and then leaning forwards to adjust his harness, which was digging into his back uncomfortably. That made him notice his grenades and he got sucked into checking them over again. Once satisfied that all was in order with his explosives, Junkrat was once more started looking for something to do.

He found that something in a small hole in the surface of his seat, which he began to pick at enthusiastically. Junkrat soon had the hole transformed into a bigger hole, and was pulling the stuffing out of the seat curiously. He hated these long trips; no one would let him work on his half-done explosives because he’d ‘blow them all up’. _Feh_. As if he was dumb enough to do that. Sometimes, he reckoned none of them thought he actually knew what he was doing with bombs.

He had quite a bit of stuffing dropped on the seat, over his lap, and on the floor by the time someone spotted him. A shadow fell over him, and Junkrat looked up to find Winston standing there, looking exasperated.

“Is that… really necessary?” The gorilla asked, lifting his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“ _Yeah_.” Junkrat said indignantly, and pointed at 76. “He’s got me bombs. What else d’want me t’do?”

76 looked up at this, his expression a little perplexed, for he was too far away to have heard what Junkrat had said properly.

Winston gave him a hard look. “You want your explosives back.”

Junkrat nodded enthusiastically. “Sure do.”

“On board the _ship_.”

Junkrat heaved a disgusted sigh. “Oi, listen. Why d’ya all seem t’think I’m two seconds from blowin’ up the goddamn base at all bloody times!? I know what I’m doin’!”

McCree chimed in from beside him before Winston could answer. “Reckon he’s right, Winston. Hasn’t blown anythin’ he weren’t ‘sposed to up yet.”

Winston didn’t look convinced. “Angela told me you blew _yourself_ up not too long ago and broke several bones.”

Junkrat twitched with anger. “That ain’t got fuckin’ nuthin’ t’do with anythin’! That was a _concussion mine_.” He only barely stopped himself from adding _‘y’stupid bastard’._ He didn’t think Winston would take too kindly for that. “Number one, that ain’t an explosive. Number two, it didn’t ‘blow up’. M’numbers were off, that’s all.”

“And is it possible for your numbers to be off with your other explosives, hypothetically speaking?” That was 76 appearing from behind Winston; he must have seen Junkrat pointing and come to investigate.

“ _No_.” Junkrat spat. “Not even a little. Could make what’s in those cases with me eyes shut an’ one hand tied behind me back, an’ I’m _tellin’_ ya, got nuthin’ in there that’s dangerous.”

76 raised a sardonic brow. “So you’ve brought nothing with you to fight omnics with. Smart.”

Junkrat swelled in fury. “Fuckin’ – _no_. I _meant_ , nuthin’ temperamental enough t’blow the ship t’bloody smithereens while I’m fiddlin’ with ‘em!” He ground the words between his teeth, wanting quite badly to break 76’s stupid nose. That was a blatant lie – he had enough firepower to bring the ship down and reduce it to ash. However, Junkrat was _not_ stupid enough to say this out loud.

Winston tapped 76 on the shoulder and led him away, and the two began whispering together quietly enough that Junkrat couldn’t hear them. McCree leaned over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear.

“Bad luck, fella.” He drawled, and rearranged his cigarillo’s position in his mouth. “Jack ain’t really one t’change his mind.”

Junkrat sank back down into his seat and fumed, folding his arms tightly and glaring at 76 as the old strike commander went and sat back down, Junkrat’s explosives still settled at his side. A few minutes passed and Junkrat was getting ready for a full-blown sulk, when Roadhog tapped his shoulder lightly. Turning to look, he found a phone being shoved in his face. After a garbled exclamation and an attempt to push the phone away, Junkrat recognised it; it was _his_. He patted his pockets and came up with empty space, and made an angry and indignant noise in the back of his throat.

“The hell’d y’get that from?” He asked, and tried to snatch it from Roadhog’s grasp, who pulled back in time so Junkrat missed.

Roadhog then offered it to him again, more slowly this time, and as Junkrat looked down, he noticed that the phone was on, showing a string of text messages… from Satya. Junkrat made a strangled sound and succeeded in snatching it away from Roadie then, and scowled ferociously. "The fuck are ya-”

He found himself interrupted.

“Moron.” Hog rasped, and Junkrat frowned. He glanced uncertainly at the phone in his fist and then noticed that there was a previously unread message there. _Oh_. Hog was telling him he’d gotten a message. He blinked and hunched down in his seat to read it, guarding the screen protectively from McCree’s gaze, if the cowboy was inclined to try reading it.

 **{96856} Symmetra  
** Hello

Junkrat licked his lips and looked up surreptitiously; Satya was curled up in her seat, eyes on her own phone, though as he watched, her gaze flickered up to meet his and the corner of her mouth curled slightly. Junkrat ripped his eyes from her in case anyone was watching him and stared at his phone, alarmed. He felt annoyed then, annoyed that Satya could make him feel so _nervous_ with a single word. It was ridiculous, and he told himself so firmly, though he doubted he was going to listen.

Junkrat tipped his head sideways as he typed his reply, glowing on the inside as he always did when words and himself were something that went successfully together.

 **{11873} Junkrat  
** gday

Satya had informed him once during a reading lesson that _g’day_ was written with an apostrophe, and one day Junkrat intended to figure out where exactly apostrophes were located on a phone keypad, but today was not that day, so he left it out. He eagerly glanced up then remembered himself and tried to look inconspicuous as he watched her read his message, a faint smile visible on her lips. Feeling curious, he swiftly sent another message.

 **{11873} Junkrat  
** whatcha doin

He made a mental note to figure out where question marks were as well. Still, he wanted to know what she was thinking. Why had she texted him?

 **{96856} Symmetra  
** Waiting, I suppose. The same as you

He nodded to himself and stared typing, mouthing each letter in the words in an effort to sound things out.

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
nepals a fuckarse way away

The corner of her mouth twitched as she read his reply and Junkrat giggled quietly to himself. Satya wasn’t herself yet, hadn’t been since before she’d found out Vishkar’s treachery, but he thoroughly enjoyed every smile he coaxed out of her, and more to the point, she’d told him she liked the distraction, and so Junkrat had made it a sort of mission to keep her cheerful through this rough patch.

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
True. No need to ask what you’ve been doing

Junkrat mouthed each word and then looked down at the seat stuffing scattered around his feet and snickered to himself. He felt proud as punch as the words came fairly easily to him – Satya had taught him a trick which he used regularly now, of breaking words he wasn’t sure of into sounds. As he already spoke English, she’d informed him, if he broke down the basic sounds and then spoke them in his mind, those sounds would resemble a word he did know, and _voilà_ , he’d know what was written. Junkrat was very fond of this method, and used it ninety percent of the time – it only failed when he was dealing with silent letters and stupid pronunciation.

  
**{11873} Junkrat  
** nope

 **{96856} Symmetra  
** Are you in trouble?

Junkrat glanced up and she very surreptitiously tipped her head in 76’s direction and he grinned, then forgot about replying as Mercy headed in his direction.

“Junkrat.” She said in a soft murmur, leaning over him. “Would you do me a favour and swap seats? I have to talk to Jesse about something.”

Junkrat glanced at McCree and then over at Mercy’s recently vacated seat; a thrill ran through him when he realised that her spot would place him in between Satya and Lúcio.

“Mmm… sure.” He agreed, trying not to sound too enthusiastic, and shared a gleeful look with Roadie before getting up out of his seat and slouching across the belly of the ship. He sank into his new seat and greeted Lúcio briefly, then tapped his fingers on his thigh for a moment before turning to his other neighbour. Satya sat with her legs crossed and her body angled against the headrest, so she could lean sideways on the seat, which had the happy convenience of meaning she could speak to him without making a single adjustment to her comfortable position.

“G’day.” He greeted her quietly, and the corner of her mouth curved.

“Hello.”

He fidgeted uncomfortably; he wanted so badly to talk to her, like he did in the workshop or during reading lessons, but anyone might overhear them here. It was too public, and Junkrat found himself immensely displeased by the dropship’s seating arrangements. Satya glanced at him frequently, and though they occasionally did speak, it was only pleasantries, nothing substantial, and Junkrat had to be content with that. He was, however, the very opposite of contented.

 Eventually he tugged a grenade from his harness and broke it open; there wasn’t anything wrong with it, but pulling it apart and then rewiring it would be a welcome distraction, one that soon occupied all of his attention, so when Tracer’s announcement that they were crossing the boarder into Nepal came over the loudspeaker, he found himself completely blindsided. Busy fingers froze on the innards of his grenade as Junkrat’s head snapped up and he looked around. Everyone else was stirring; Pharah was shaking her mother gently awake and McCree was stretching exaggeratedly.

Junkrat turned to face Roadhog across the way and found him peering out of the window, so Junkrat swivelled in his seat so he could see too. Gripping the window edge with his fingers, he pressed his nose to the glass and furrowed his brow. They seemed to crossing a snowy mountain range; Junkrat could have cried. He shivered and muttered a curse under his breath as he tugged his parka tighter around his shoulders at the sight of the snow.

Ana and Mercy had cornered him and made him put on some ridiculous bullshit called ‘thermal underwear’ – Junkrat didn’t wear underwear, and why it needed to be thermal he didn’t have a clue. He was kind of glad they’d made him do it _now_ , because the further they got into the colder parts of where they were going, the more his thermal knickers kept him cosy. It felt strange though – wearing so many layers. He kind of hoped the Shambali had central heating.

The rest of him was on high alert – they were in omnic territory now, or rather, they were flying above it, and while the others seemed to think the Shambali bots were trustworthy, he and Hoggie knew better – you could _never_ trust a bot. Torbjörn, the only other halfway sensible being on the ship, also looked a bit wary, and then Junkrat forgot about that as Tracer’s voice came over the loudspeaker to tell them quite unnecessarily that they’d reached the mountain ranges upon which the monastery stood, and then Junkrat found himself on the receiving end of a double barrelled lecture as 76 and Winston bailed him up.

“You understand the omnics at the monastery aren’t to be touched?” 76 barked, then looked up at Roadhog. “ _Both_ of you?”

Roadhog nodded once and turned back to his book, while Junkrat seethed.

“Listen here, _mate_ -” He began, but 76 spoke over him.

“Because if I catch one _whiff_ of trouble, it’ll be your ass getting sent _right_ back to this ship to wait for the rest of us.”

Junkrat swelled in indignation. “Can’t threaten t’kick me out when I ain’t even done anythin’!”

“But you _might_.” 76 countered.

“Jack is right.” Winston removed and polished his glasses briefly. “Human – omnic relations are important. The monks must not be harmed.”

Junkrat bristled. “Y’really think I’m just gonna waltz up an’ shove a grenade into some bloody monk’s face!?”

76 said “yes” at the same moment Winston said “no”, and Junkrat rolled his eyes heavily. To be perfectly honest, he would _love_ to shove a grenade into the face of a so-called ‘monk’. _But_ , he was also capable of common sense – and biding his time. So was Roadhog. Actually, Roadie was even better at biding his time, and Junkrat had no intention of getting banished back to the bloody dropship before he’d even had a chance to use his explosives. No fuckin’ way was he missing out on the action.

He suffered through another round of accusatory warnings and finally got 76 to piss off when he blatantly started ignoring the bloke to the point of whistling a jaunty tune while tugging at the wires of a (currently non-functioning) frag mine in the middle of the lecture.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see 76 whispering to Mercy, and the two of them were continually glancing over at him, no doubt debating how long it would take him to attack one of the monks. Junkrat swore under his breath – this was fuckin’ miserable and he was starting to think staying behind might not have been so bad, even if it meant he couldn’t blow up omnics – it’d beat this _suspicion_.

“You will be cautious, won’t you, Junkrat?”

He blinked at Satya, startled, then realised she was sitting next to him – of course she’d have heard Winston and 76 ganging up on him.

“Oh. Uh, I guess.” He shrugged half-heartedly and puzzled over her use of _cautious_ – did she mean be careful of the potentially dangerous omnics, or take care not to injure them?

At that moment, Tracer’s voice came over the loudspeaker to tell them that they were landing and Junkrat turned to look out the window at the monastery visible below. His eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened on the grenade in his hands – they’d arrived, and Junkrat felt very much like the stranger in a strange land. Obviously he could no longer trust anyone apart from Roadhog and possibly Torbjörn, so he had to stay on his guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something of a filler chapter before things get real in the next one


	54. Ropeable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Genji makes a Mistake

The Shambali was cold but beautiful. Icy fingers dripped from the eaves of the monastery, turning it into a picturesque dreamscape like something from an old painting. While the Satya found the snow to be utterly beautiful, she was less enchanted with the temperature. In Utopaea, it never got so cold, not even in the depths of winter. To make matters worse, the monastery was almost utterly unfit for human habitation – to be sure, fireplaces and old, magnificently carved hearths littered the buildings, but as omnic monks had no need of such things, these fireplaces were _anything_ but well-stocked with kindling and firewood.

In their first hour of arrival those who decided they weren’t going to immediately succumb to the temperatures went out to collect firewood. Nor were there anything resembling beds. Genji had had an excellent time reminiscing about his time with the Shambali on their journey to Nepal, but as he had no need of sleep, had forgotten to inform them of the lack of accommodation of such basic needs. It was just as well that Morrison and Winston had decided that it would be in their best interests to take sleeping equipment along as well, just be to safe. Upon being shown their rooms, everyone had promptly turned back to the ship to fetch their sleeping bags. At least in Siberia there had been heating, Satya thought wistfully as she tried to place her bedroll in the least coldest part of her room.

Bedroll placed, she decided more decisive action was needed, and she pulled her tablet from her bag and opened it to her schematics. Flicking through the files, Satya swiftly found the one for a compact but powerful heater, and set to work crafting it, regularly checking her schematic for reference. Several minutes later the sleek white device sat discreetly in a corner of her room, pumping waves of delicious heat over her. She sat in front of the heater and basked in the heat for a while, then continued unpacking, and wondered if crafting a vacuum cleaner and giving her room a good going over would be _too_ much.

She was in a room that was used but rarely – the old living quarters of the monks back when the monastery had been inhabited by humans – as the omnic monks had no need of them, they’d been used as storage, or not at all. There were enough rooms, however, to house everyone, and Satya was glad that they weren’t in a communal space. She enjoyed her privacy, and the view from her window was just spectacular, with part of the ancient Nepalese temple to her right and beyond, a snowy white mountain range.

A knock on her door sounded and, having given them permission to enter, Satya eyed the door curiously as it opened to admit a shivering Hana, whose eyes opened wide as she saw the heater, and, with her greeting having died on her lips, dove to sit in front of it, hands splayed over the heat. Satya smiled at the sight – she knew how Hana felt. She was also rather proud of herself – she was feeling much more at ease in the company of others now. In the lowest depths of her Vishkar related despair, Satya had been unable to imagine ever showing her face again, but now, having worked through her emotions and dealt with them, she could face the future with a little more confidence.

“Where’d you get this?” Hana cried, twisting around to see while still keeping her fingers in front of the warm air.

“I made it.” Satya shrugged one shoulder carelessly. “These rooms are frigid. It would be impossible to sleep without it.” She saw the kind thing to do and smiled at the young girl. “Would you like one for your room?”

As it turned out, Hana _would_ like one.

She sat on the end of Satya’s bedroll and watched curiously as Satya crafted a second heater, her knees beneath her chin as she chattered away gaily.

“Rein says the cold is invigorating.” Hana rolled her eyes heavily. “I swear, if he wasn’t so busy telling Lúcio about how _bracing_ and _stimulating_ it is, he’d be out front snorting lines of snow.”

Satya couldn’t help her brief chuckle, then frowned as her momentary distraction made the lines of the half-formed construct before her wobble. She stabilised the shape and nodded at it before replying.

“That sounds like Reinhardt. How is everyone else dealing with the cold?”

“Torb doesn’t mind it, I think. He’s not complaining as much as others, so that’s something. Angela too. But they’re all European so they’re _used_ to snow. Ana and Fareeha are both wearing about six coats each, poor things. Lúcio’s having a bad time, and Rein’s got hold of him too!” She giggled and sighed luxuriously. “It’s _lovely_ in here. I might move in.”

“Ah, so I made you a heater for nothing?” Satya grinned as she pulled the construct from the air with a flourish, and Hana clapped.

“I guess not! Thanks, Satya. You’re awesome.”

Satya made a vague noise, a new thought having occurred to her. “Do you think the others might also appreciate heaters?”

“Oh, definitely.” Hana nodded. “I’ll text Lu, and – hmm. How about I run down the hall, knock on everyone’s door and tell them there’s heaters going if they want them?”

“I think that’d work well.” Satya nodded. “I’ll start crafting them while you do that.”

“Okay!” Hana put her heater down, hugged her coat tighter around her body, and darted out the door. It wasn’t long before Satya had quite the queue outside her door – her room wasn’t big enough to fit everyone in, but she’d opened her door to let the heat in her room pour out (and turned her heater up to compensate) and ended up crafting a heater for everyone single person (and gorilla) present.

“You’ve saved my life.” Ana said seriously, when Satya placed her newly formed hater into her arms. “They’d have found me frozen solid in the morning if it weren’t for you.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Satya replied, and Ana laughed and headed back to her room to start defrosting.

The next person in line was Junkrat, who was visibly shivering.

“‘Bout bloody time this old joint saw a heater or two, ay? Christ, that arm of yours is bloody handy, hah! Get it? _Handy?”_ He dissolved into giggles and Satya smiled wryly over the shimmering lines of her construct.

“You’ve made that joke before. Perhaps it’s time for some new material?”

His brows snapped together. “Oi. Y’doubtin’ the genius of m’comedic skills?”

“Entirely.” Satya brought two lines together and formed the inner mechanism of his heater.

Junkrat looked both amused and affronted. “ _Entirely?_ What’s that ‘sposed t’mean?”

Satya shrugged one shoulder elegantly and brought the outer casing of the heater into existence. “Exactly what it sounds like, I’d imagine.”

Ah, she’d missed sparring verbally with him, and from the looks of it, he was having just a good a time as she was.

“Y’hear that, Roadie?” Junkrat turned to raise his brows at Roadhog, who stood behind him in line. “She’s doubtin’ me.”

“No bloody wonder.” Roadhog rumbled, and Junkrat’s brows almost disappeared into his hair altogether.

“Oi!”

Satya joined the last line, and, with a small sigh of satisfaction, brought another perfect construct into existence, which she then pressed into Junkrat’s hands.

“Try not to blow it up.” She said blithely, and he giggled madly.

“I make no promises!” He said in a sing-song voice, then turned to scurry down the hall towards his room, and Satya turned to Roadhog, the next person in line.

Once the heaters were done, Satya was about to close her door to retain heat when Lúcio’s popped open and he stuck his head out.

“Satya!” He called. “Got a minute?”

Curious, Satya entered his room and found him and Hana sitting on the ground, her newly constructed heater puffing away merrily in the corner. They had paper sprawled across the floor, and Hana was squinting at a piece.

“Hey Sym!” She called. “Ready?”

“For what?” Satya asked blankly, and Hana elbowed Lúcio hard.

“Didn’t you tell her?” She asked, and Lúcio looked a bit sheepish.

“I’m doing it now!” He protested, then turned to look at Satya. “Sit, please?”

Satya sat.

Lúcio appeared to be brimming with nervous energy as he searched through the scatter sheafs of paper, searching for one in particular, which he found and passed to her.

Satya raised her brows, for scrawled across the top of it was, in capital letters – 

LÚCIO’S PLAN TO FREE SYMMETRA FROM VISHKAR

She eyed him curiously. “So you’re finally going to tell me what your plan is, hmm?”

Lúcio nodded. “Yeah. Had some details to iron out, but y’know, it’s pretty simple.”

Hana scoffed. “It’s not _simple_.”

“Well, maybe not _simple_ …” Lúcio mused. “…but it isn’t _that_ complicated, either. It just hinges on a lot of things going right.”

“And what are these things?” Satya asked.

“Lu wants to blackmail the pants off Vishkar.” Hana volunteered, and Satya raised an incredulous brow.

“You want to blackmail an incredibly powerful international multibillion dollar corporation.” She said flatly, and Lúcio nodded.

“Yeah. Sounds about right.”

“And just how are you going to pull this off?” She asked sweetly, doubt in every word.

“Lu’s got it all figured out.” Hana said, sounding pleased. “And I helped.”

“Well, I appreciate the thought.” Satya said slowly. “But I don’t think it’s possible.”

“Just hear us out first, okay?” Lúcio looked so enthusiastic, she had to agree.

“Very well. Tell me the plan.”

Lúcio rubbed his hands together. “Right. Well, I was thinking about what you said about your contract. Correct me if I’m wrong, but Vishkar will take your arm if you break it, yeah?”

“Yes, they will.” Satya said cautiously, rubbing the crystal lens in her palm anxiously.

“So we’ll let them.” Lúcio said cheerfully, and Satya blinked.

“We’ll – _what!?”_

“We’ll get you a new one.” He soothed. “I’ve been talking to Torbjörn and Winston about it. They’re both confident that they can reverse engineer a new hard light prosthetic just by going off how your current one was made. Then, you’ll have a new hard light hand, and Vishkar will have your old one. Everyone will be happy!”

“No, they won’t.” Satya said shortly. “Hard light is _patented_. Vishkar would sue me, _and_ Torbjörn and Winston for making it. We’d all end up in prison.”

“Ah.” Lúcio held up a finger. “ _That’s_ where the blackmail comes in. You recall a little trip you took, to Toulouse, France?”

 _Now_ everything made sense.

“…You’re going to threaten to publicise the files I stole. Not release them. _Threaten_ to.” Satya said slowly, and Lúcio grinned as Hana nodded madly.

“Yep!” She crowed. “Lu and I’ve been through all the files. Vishkar won’t want any of this stuff publicised. Maybe even enough to let one architech breaking her contract slide.”

Satya thought this over for a moment. “Alright.” She said finally. “Say this works. What then?”

“You come and work for Overwatch, if you want.” Lúcio said almost shyly. “Winston said he’s prepared to offer you a formal position, once you’ve left Vishkar.”

Well, that was only one loose thread taken care of. There were still others remaining, though there was one pressing matter she’d not yet voiced. “Lúcio… why do this for _me?_ You have the potential to shut Vishkar down for good if you publicise the files. I would probably be arrested for complicity, and for that I am grateful to you, but… you could expose what happened in Rio for the whole world to see.”

His expression turned serious. “I’ve thought of that, and considered it. But there are two things to consider, you know. The first, obviously, is you. Also the rest of the architechs – if you didn’t know, then they probably didn’t know either. It isn’t very fair on them to destroy all their livelihoods.”

Satya’s heart melted at his selflessness. Lúcio was truly a good man. “Then how-”

“Let me finish!” Lúcio grinned at her. “If we do it this way, getting you out of your contract isn’t the _only_ thing we’ll be blackmailing them into. Do you see? Winston reckons that the UN is on the verge of repealing the Petras Act. If they do, and even before they do, Overwatch will be more than capable of keeping tabs on Vishkar and making sure they toe the line. We’ll threaten to release the files if they don’t. Secondly…” He grinned crookedly. “Funding. If we expose Vishkar now, the UN will spend months flipping out over the corruption, and the Petras Act will definitely be on the backburner. What’ll we do without funding? You know better than anyone that Vishkar is almost wholly responsible for making sure this recall works. It’s Vishkar money that put gas in the tank for us to come to Nepal.”

“That’s true…” Satya said slowly. There was a curious feeling in her chest, like her ribcage was too tight for her body as her heart swelled with hope. “You really think this will work, don’t you?”

“We have to try.” He said earnestly. “It’s better than all the alternatives, and I’ve run it past Jack and Winston and Ana _and_ Angela. They all think it’s worth a shot. Jack’d rather die than lose hard light on missions – he loves it now. Winston would start tearing out his fur if we lost funding.” Lúcio took a deep breath. “I want – I really, _really_ want to expose Vishkar for the crooked shits they are, but… my feelings aren’t the only ones I have to consider. This way… it’s for the best.”

Satya thought for a moment. Actually… it would work out rather well… if they could pull it off. _And_ , Satya thought grimly. _That is a pretty big if_. “And… Torbjörn and Winston are sure they can duplicate my arm?” She asked doubtfully, and Lúcio nodded.

“Yep! And Torb said, even if they run into difficulties, he’s got a friend who specialised in creating prosthetics, and he can all in a favour.”

Satya began mentally checking off everything that would need to be pulled off smoothly for this to work. She was beginning to feel quite excited, though she told herself not to be stupid. “What about my implants?” She asked, and Lúcio paused.

“…Implants?” He asked in the tone of someone who’d just realised they absolutely hadn’t accounted for something.

Satya nodded. “In my brain. They’re part of what makes my hard light function.”

“Oh shit.” Hana breathed, and Lúcio looked like he agreed.

“Do you know if they’re… uh, complicated?” He asked, and Satya shrugged helplessly.

“They’re implants in my brain that are part of what allows me to create something out of nothing. I doubt they’re simple. I would suggest trying to link them up with my new arm, but… Vishkar would no doubt ask for them back. Replacing my arm is one thing, but how am I going to have brain surgery?”

“I’ll call Angela!” Hana volunteered, and she whipped out her phone to dial the doctor.

Satya and Lúcio discussed the minute details of the plan while waiting for Mercy, and when there came a gentle knock at the door, Mercy was ushered in immediately.

“Hey, Angela. Have you done brain surgery before?” Lúcio asked without preamble, and Mercy’s brows arched.

“ _Brain_ surgery?”

“It’s not brain surgery, not really.” Satya clarified. “What Lúcio _means_ is, he’s come up with a plan to maybe get me out of my contract with Vishkar, and part of that involves replacing my arm. I have implants in my head… do you have any experience with that sort of thing?”

Mercy relaxed now she knew what was happening. “Oh, that makes more sense. Yes, I’ve got experience.” She came and sat down on the floor near them. “Or have you all forgotten that I rebuilt Genji? He has neural implants.”

“Oh yeah.” Hana said. “So Satya’s arm would be a piece of cake, yeah?”

“Mm, it depends.” Mercy said thoughtfully. “You’d need to give me the details on _exactly_ what I’d be doing, and what kind of implants you have, Satya, but I think I could do it… aside from _where_ we’d do it. Gibraltar was never one of our bigger bases. I don’t have the necessary equipment. Not to mention the fact that I’ve never worked with these hard light prosthetics before. They might be different to anything I’ve done.”

“Well, fuck.” Lúcio said, frowning intently. “That puts a bit of a stopper in things.”

Mercy looked contemplative. “…Do you have a timeframe for this?”

“Within the month.” Lúcio said immediately, and Satya raised both brows at him. “Er… if Satya’s okay with that.” He amended sheepishly.

“Well…” Satya said slowly, considering things. “Perhaps… yes, perhaps Lúcio is right. The sooner this happens, the less chance Vishkar has of finding out what’s happening before we want them to. Though I’m still not convinced this will work.”

Lúcio nodded, and visibly ignored her last comment. “Yeah. So, whadaya think, Angie?”

Mercy grinned. “Well… I just had a thought. I have a friend who is, _very_ conveniently, a neurosurgeon based in Switzerland. They own their own practice, _so_ they have their own operating theatre, which would keep things nice and private. I’m sure I could pull a few strings, call in a favour…”

“They have their own operating theatre?” Hana asked, brows raised, and Mercy nodded.

“Mm, their name is Ingrid Frisch. You can look them up if you’d like. They’re very good. When they retired, they found they didn’t _like_ being retired, so they opened their own private facility in Berne. They’re quite exclusive, actually, but I met Ingrid a few years back at a function honouring those who’d made breakthroughs in the European medical field. Ingrid was one of them – they pioneered a new way of removing tumours from the medulla oblongata – and the method has been expanded upon for most of the remainder of the brain – in a way that is far safer for the patients. Ingrid will hear me out, I’m sure.”

Satya was not entirely sure what the medulla oblongata was, though she surmised from Mercy’s words that it was a part of the brain, but this Ingrid person seemed competent.

“Well, I hope they do.” She replied softly. “This might be my only chance to leave Vishkar.” Satya neglected to mention she had absolutely no faith in this plan; she didn’t think it’d work, but supposed it was worthwhile humouring it for now.

Just in case.

Lúcio talked Mercy through the finer parts of the plan and they all went over it minutely, and then a beep in their earpieces alerted them to Morrison, who then made an announcement – now that everyone was more or less unpacked, they received instructions on how they were to start preparing the Shambali for an invasion.

Satya left not long after that, as did Mercy and Hana, and went to prepare. She exited Lúcio’s room just as Hanzo knocked on hers, and she walked up behind him.

“You won’t find me in there.” She said breezily, and Hanzo turned and raised a brow.

“Where were you?”

“Talking to Lúcio about his scheme to get me out of Vishkar’s contract. Come in and I’ll tell you all about it.”

A curious Hanzo then more or less invited himself along with Satya on her rounds – Morrison had tasked her with establishing turrets along the perimeters of the monastery, a task she shared with Torbjörn. As an archer and warrior with no particular skill set that would allow him to prepare beforehand aside from practicing his aim, Hanzo had decided to accompany Satya while she crafted her turrets, and the both of them complained bitterly about the cold while doing it, and periodically during her explanation of Lúcio’s plan. He thought it was all very good – but she had to remember that as the ex-leader of the Shimada clan, he most likely was used to blackmail.

Hanzo leaned against the wall of the monastery, one eyes scanning the horizon for threats while he waited for Satya to craft and place a turret high up on an archway – she theorised that any enemy omnics would come from the other side of the arch, and having crossed beneath it, would promptly be fried by her turrets. While crafting, she and Hanzo were now locked in an intense discussion regarding his clothing – namely, was he going to sacrifice his accuracy for warm clothing, or risk hypothermia for a decent shot?

“I think you’d be foolish to do it.” Satya said decidedly as she curled her fingers to change the angle of one edge of a half-completed turret, trying to ignore the bitterly cold wind threatening to worm its way inside her scarf. “Do you really want to risk Angela’s wrath?”

Hanzo chuckled and dipped his chin. “True. I really don’t fancy hypothermia either. But, my _kyudo-gi_ is preferable in a fight.”

“I’m well aware.” Satya thought for a moment. “Have you never tried some sort of skin tight thermal wear?”

Hanzo made an evasive sound. “Not in an environment such as this. Besides, even skin tight can cost me a crucial edge.”

“Well, aside from sitting out…”

He looked affronted. “Which I am not going to do.”

“Then you need to make up your mind.” Satya nodded in satisfaction at the turret which now gleamed in the sun, and crossed over to place another one in the same position on the opposite side of the arch.

“I’m aware.” Hanzo stroked his small beard thoughtfully. “Now my only question is, if I choose thermal wear, like you said, where do I get it from? I can’t exactly go shopping.”

“Overnight shipping.” Satya suggested, and they both chuckled. “In all seriousness, though, perhaps you ought to ask Morrison? He seems the type to be prepared, and, if there was any spare equipment at the base suited to such a climate, perhaps he had it packed.”

“True.” Hanzo had brought his bow and arrow along, just in case, and was now testing the point of an arrow on his thumb. “I think I will ask him, when I see him. I-”

His words faded as a familiar step- _clank_ echoed, though muffled slightly from the snow on the stone, and Junkrat rounded the corner. Having plainly not expected to see them, he pulled up short as his brows disappeared into his hair.

“Oh, g’day.” His voice was cheery, and he shifted his weight as though ready for conversation. Junkrat, in addition to his puffy winter coat and pants, had acquired from somewhere a thick, bright red woollen scarf which he’d twined around his throat, and paired with the beanie jammed on his head to cover his ears, made him look rather cosy. His nose and cheeks were pink from cold, and his breath curled in front of him as he spoke. “Didn’t know you two were here. Whatcha doin’?”

“I’m placing turrets.” Satya said, with a brief raise of her own brows. “And you?”

“I’ve been riggin’ certain places t’blow.” He said cheerily, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “76 an’ me went through all the spots we reckon the tin cans-” He froze at that moment, eyes locked behind her, and Satya swivelled to see one of the monks floating across the courtyard. Junkrat didn’t stop staring at the omnic, suspicion and hatred clear in his eyes until the monk had disappeared through the door, and it was only then that he finished his thought. “What was I sayin’?”

“Something that you and Morrison have planned?” Satya prompted, and Junkrat nodded, much of his attention still taken up by where the omnic had been. “Roight. 76  an’ me found a bunch of spots the bots are most likely t’come.”

“You’re going to blow up the monastery?” Hanzo asked doubtfully.

Junkrat giggled in reply. “Nah, not the whole place – just the outside.” He turned to illustrate his point. “See those cliffs there? Omnics are downhill, most of ‘em, so if I can flick a switch-” a detonator was suddenly and disconcertingly in his hand, and to make matters worse, Satya saw him flick the protective cover off the switch itself as he mimed detonating his explosives.  “-an’ send ‘em all barrellin’ down the mountain in an avalanche, well, that’s half the job done, innit?”

“I see.” She said carefully. “And this plan isn’t – risky?”

“Nah.” Junkrat paused and visibly reconsidered. “Well, only if yer standin’ on the edge when she blows. 76 says he’s gonna let everyone know where not t’go.”

“And where would that be?” Hanzo asked testily, and if Junkrat noticed his tone, he didn’t show it.

“Just ‘round the edges, mate.” He said cheerily. “Stay on the insides an’ we’ll have no worries, ay?”

Satya nodded and Hanzo did too, and Junkrat took himself off to continue setting up his explosives at another point. She exchanged a look with the archer, and the two of them moved a little further inside the monastery. They crossed paths with the others, some lugging supplies, some setting up defences, and some talking strategy.

Her work lasted her a good several hours, and Satya was more than ready for lunch and a steaming cup of tea (not that there was anything edible at the monastery, and worse, all that had been packed was military-style rations, not what Satya called overly appetising). She was just voicing these wishes to Hanzo, who paused in the middle of rubbing his hands together briskly to agree with the notion of tea, when shouts and a loud bang erupted in the distance. They both froze and then Satya had her photon projector held aloft and Hanzo had an arrow nocked in the next second. They exchanged a glance and then pressed themselves against the wall.

“You think they’re coming?” She murmured, and Hanzo shrugged slightly, his attention trained on the outer walls of the monastery.

“I’m not sure.”

They held a defensive position for a few moments longer and the shouting continued, though to Satya’s ears it didn’t exactly sound like that of a battle. And if the omnics had attacked, why had none of their defensive measures activated? Surely they’d be hearing the sounds of turrets, gunfire and explosions by now. Footsteps sounded and grew louder, and Satya held her breath and lifted her photon projector and –

She blinked and lowered her weapon as Hana came sprinting into view.

“Hana!” Hanzo hissed, drawing the girl’s attention. Hana skidded to a stop before them, and had to pause to catch her breath.

“What’s happening?” Satya asked urgently, trying to keep her voice down. “Is it the omnics?”

“What? No.” Hana straightened up, recovering enough from her sprint to talk. “It’s Genji.” She raised her brows at Hanzo. “You’d better come, quickly.”

 _“Genji?”_ Hanzo lowered his bow and slipped his arrow into his quiver in one fluid motion. “Explain yourself.”

Hana turned and started leading them across the monastery, towards the main hall. “I was in the hall, grabbing some things, and Junkrat was there too, loading up on his explosives.”

Satya blinked. _“Junkrat?”_ She asked blankly. “What does _he_ have to do with it?”

“I’m getting there!” Hana huffed. “Genji went over to like, talk to him. Don’t ask me what they were saying, but all of a sudden one of them’s knocked a table over and they’re squaring up.”

Hanzo muttered something in Japanese.

“Yeah.” Hana nodded. “So then, I think Genji was like, trying to taunt Rat? Anyway, Rat’s bag was on the table that didn’t get knocked over and Genji took something from it. Next thing we know, Junkrat full on attacked him. Straight up tackled him! Genji sort of got away but I don’t know. Rat was _really_ mad. Chased after Genji, tackled him down the front steps and tried to rip his eyeballs out.”

“ _Kasu_.” Hanzo said, his tone disgusted, and sped up. Satya lengthened her stride to match his, and soon enough they’d reached the main hall. Upon entering, Satya saw Genji sitting on the edge of a table, the front of his armour drenched in blood, and Mercy was gently daubing at his face. Satya followed Hanzo and stood amongst the crowd of people watching, and soon ascertained that Junkrat had succeeded in ripping Genji’s faceplate off, had broken Genji’s nose, and, just as Hana had said, had tried to gouge his eyes out. Thankfully, he had not been successful, but Genji still had deep, bloody furrows around one of his eye sockets where Junkrat’s nails had dug into his flesh.

The second most readily apparent thing was that neither Junker was in the room.

“What on _earth_ did Genji take to make Junkrat attack him like that?” Satya murmured to Mei, who stood beside her. Mei shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know. I didn’t see it very well. It just looked like a little white disc to me.” She said, and Satya froze. _Oh. Oh dear._

“Where has he gone?” She asked softly, and Mei confessed that she didn’t know – Reinhardt had pulled the two apart, and then, a bloody and furious Junkrat had disappeared deeper into the monastery, with Roadhog going after him.

Satya very subtly eased backwards, and left the hall without too much trouble, for everyone’s attention was very much on Genji. If Genji had taken a ‘little white disc’, well, Satya knew what that was most likely to be, and why it would have elicited such a strong reaction from Junkrat. Not many of his possessions were white, and coupled with such a strong defensive measure, well. She gazed around outside briefly, trying to put herself in Junkrat’s shoes. If she were him, where would she go? She checked a few places, and eventually came across Roadhog leaning against a wall at the base of one of the higher buildings. She approached him warily, for he was sharpening his hook in a threatening manner.

“Roadhog?” She asked softly, and he looked up, though said and did nothing more. Satya cleared her throat and tried again. Roadhog was standing directly beneath a window, a window that, if she recalled correctly, was in a room that was inaccessible due to the ancient wooden stairs having rotted away. She could very easily see Junkrat scaling the wall to get to a secluded area in order to conceal himself. “Is Junkrat up there?”

For a long moment, Roadhog did nothing, and then he nodded once, and continued sharpening his hook. Satya was just debating where to go from here when he spoke.

“Y’know what the tin can took?” He rasped, and she nodded, then Roadhog did too. “Then y’know why he did it.”

“I do.” Satya twisted her fingers together. “I’d like go up there.”

“He’s angry.”

“I know.”

Roadhog looked at her for a long moment, then inclined his head. Satya smiled a bit uncertainly at him, and then entered the building. She found the rotten stairs and, after a brief moment, fashioned new planks from her hard light. At the small landing at the top she unhitched her photon projector and dissolved the stairs, the better to ensure that they weren’t interrupted. Satya placed her hand on the door handle and took a deep breath. She wasn’t at all sure why she was here – she simply found herself prompted by a desire to ensure that Junkrat was alright, and so she lifted the latch and opened the door.

Satya froze in the doorway as movement in the corner caught her eye, and she found herself staring down the barrel of Junkrat’s frag launcher as he aimed it directly at her face. Satya held very still as she watched him – his face was a mask of fury, his eyes molten with anger. There was nothing of the friendly, laughing Junkrat she knew remaining, and she swallowed hard. Worse than that, there was something of an air of a trapped animal about him, like he was certain that he was about to be hunted down.

“Jamison.” She said softly, and the frag launcher wavered in the air. “Jamie.”

He set it down on the ground beside him, but wouldn’t meet her gaze. He stayed hunched in the corner, his eyes darting from the window to the door rapidly as he checked the exits. Satya carefully closed the door behind her and, moving slowly, walked towards him. He hunched in further when she sat down beside him, and for several minutes, Satya said nothing, just waited for his harsh panting to slow. He almost completely ignored her – instead, his attention was focused the window and on the hologram in his lap, and Satya mentally reviewed what she would say. Eventually, she decided that speech wasn’t going to help, and so she gingerly reached out with her good hand and slipped it into his. Junkrat stiffened as she did so, and his fingers were awkward and inflexible within hers. Nevertheless, she retained her grip, and, after the passing of a few minutes, he relaxed enough to lace his fingers with hers. It made her smile, and Satya turned to measure his posture and his expression. What she could see of his face was still black with fury, which rather made her smile falter, but he now held her hand like a lifeline, so she decided to speak.

“Jamie?”

He twitched slightly but didn’t look around – all of his attention remained focused on the hologram in his lap.

“You’re not hurt?” Satya ploughed ahead with the most important question. When he didn’t reply, she took it upon herself to see for herself, scanning his form in a brief yet thorough examination. He had blood on him – Genji’s blood – particularly encrusted around his fingernails, but it seemed to Satya that there was fresh seepage at his throat. “Jamison.” She said in alarm. “You’re bleeding!” Heedless of his expression, she tugged her hand free from his and worked to loosen the scarf at his throat, then peeled it back to reveal a gash in the junction of his neck and shoulder. It was not deep, and the blood was already congealing, so she left it alone. “What happened?” She breathed, tracing a finger near the cut. “Jamie?”

“…Shuriken.” He muttered, then pressed his lips tightly together. Satya wondered why he wasn’t more badly injured – Genji was an _extremely_ competent fighter, and Junkrat’s strengths were in his explosives, not hand to hand combat. Perhaps Junkrat had caught him by surprise? Or perhaps Genji had held back, unwilling to injure him badly. Seeing Junkrat’s still murderous expression, she instantly resolved never to voice _that_ possibility to him.

He was still fiddling with the hologram in his lap, and Satya slightly, and laid her hand on his arm.

“Are you okay?” She asked softly, and he shook his head briefly, yet decidedly, and so Satya stroked his wrist briefly. “Jamison. Will you come downstairs?” He only clenched the hologram tighter to him.

“Dunno.” He said hoarsely, the harsh bite of fury loud in his tone, and Satya looked at him in increasing worry.

“Jamison-” She began, but he hadn’t finished.

“Gonna smash his fuckin’ head in.” He growled, and finally turned to meet her gaze. Junkrat’s expression was so murderous Satya flinched involuntarily, and then she properly registered his words.

“Oh, _no_ , Jami-”

“Don’t think y’can talk me out of it!” He spat, his eyes wide. “Gonna clobber ‘im, that fuckin’ _bastard_ , gonna – gonna-” Junkrat was panting now, his breath coming in short, heaving gasps, and Satya wound her hand into his again and tried to inject some rationality into the conversation.

“Don’t be so-” She almost said _ridiculous_ , but decided against it at the last moment, biting her tongue hard. “-hasty. You need to think things through.”

“Have done.” He said shortly, as he tugged a grenade from his pocket. “Gonna blow his fuckin’ _face_ off.”

“You aren’t going to hurt him-” She began, and he turned to glare at her.

“Oh yeah?”

“You aren’t going to hurt _anyone-_ ” Satya said sensibly. “-because if you do, you will at best be thrown out of Overwatch and at worst sent to prison. And if that happens, then the odds of my seeing you again will be very slim.”

Junkrat stared at her for a very long moment, and then he scoffed and turned away. “As if _you’d_ care.” He mumbled, and Satya wasn’t entirely sure he’d meant her to hear it.

Satya sat still for a moment, thinking things through. She… _did_ care. Quite a bit more than she was willing to let on, really. More than was sensible, but… with her future at Vishkar now uncertain, she now felt a little more free to spend time with him, and… perhaps if she chose to leave, she might be a little more open to his obvious affections. She knew he liked her, and if she was being truthful to herself, she liked him. Perhaps… perhaps if Lúcio’s plan worked, she might tell him that.

“You’re wrong.” She said softly, and his hand twitched within hers. Satya knew he was looking at her, and, unable to meet his gaze, she played with his hand instead, straightening his fingers and then curling them into his palm.

“You’re just sayin’ that t’be nice.”

His words made her look up, and Satya found him looking at her with furrowed brows and a doubtful expression. His voice had been far from certain, and suddenly Junkrat looked much younger, with his pink nose and his lanky form all bundled up in poufy winter clothes, his beanie not concealing all of his hair, some of which stuck out around the edges in wild blond tufts. His expression cut her deeply – he looked so _unsure_ , and Satya found she hated it.

“I’m not.” She breathed, and tugged off her glove so she could reach up to touch his jaw softly. She had not exactly planned on this course of action, but it did seem to be pulling him from his rage, and so Satya was grateful.

Junkrat dipped his chin a little, almost nuzzling into her palm, and she smiled at him as best she could, suddenly shaky around the edges. Abruptly, his eyes widened, then narrowed, and he set his jaw.

“You’re doin’ this on purpose.” He said slowly, and pulled her hand from his face. The anger was settling in again, sharpening his features and making her stomach tighten. “You’re just tryin’ t’distract me.”

“Jamison-” Satya began, but she faltered and bit her lip, and his conviction only grew. Junkrat ripped his hand from hers and angrily muttered some derogatory things under his breath, not directed at any one person, and scowled at the opposite wall.

“Y’not gonna stop me.” His voice was sure and strong and filled with loathing. “I _am_ gonna smash his nose into his fuckin’ brain.”

 _Gods_. “Jamie, you _can’t_.” Satya began to feel slightly angry herself. Why would he jeopardise his position on the team like this? “You can’t attack one of our own team! Genji only picked it up for a few seconds. He didn’t know what it was! Why can’t you see how _unreasonable_ you’re being?”

Junkrat’s head snapped up and he glared at her, the weight of his gaze burning through her skin.

“Unreasonable.” He said flatly. “ _Unreasonable_.” He swelled in fury and opened and closed his mouth several times, but was beyond speaking. Junkrat gestured at her angrily until the words finally burst forth. “ _Unreasona_ \- fuck, do y’even realise _what_ he took?”

“Your hologram, I know-” Satya began a little uncertainly, by now realising that she had made a mistake.

“Y’don’t know!” He snarled the words right in her face, and waved the hologram at her threateningly. “Y’don’t fuckin’ get it! They’re m’parents! I only _just_ got ‘em back an’ then the fuckin’ tin can tries to take ‘em! I won’t lose em’ again, y’hear me? I’m gonna blow his fuckin’ tin head off, ‘cause it’s what he fuckin’ deserves!” Junkrat was getting visibly more and more worked up by the second, and each time Satya pulled back to preserve the space between them, he leaned forwards, determined to invade her bubble. “What woulda happened if I _hadn’t_ hit the bastard? What if he’d _broken_ it? What then, huh? What – fuckin’ – t _hen_?”

“If Genji or _anyone_ had broken it, I would have made you a new one.” Satya interjected calmly when Junkrat paused for breath. He froze at her words, his expression _utterly_ disarmed, and it was clear that whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it wasn’t _that_.

“You – _what?”_

“I would make a new one.” Satya wasn’t entirely sure how to look, so she tried out a tentative smile. “Or two, if you prefer, or a baker’s dozen. I could make as many as you wanted.”

Junkrat stared at her, evidently lost for words. He was deflating rapidly, the redness in his skin fading and his hands lying limp in his lap, one clutching the hologram and the other his grenade. “You – y’could make-” His words sounded rather strangled, and Satya did her best to seem competent and reassuring.

“Very easily. I keep notes on all my creations, you know. You could ask for a new one in fifty years and I’d still be able to make it.”

Junkrat opened his mouth, shut it, and pursed his lips. Finally, he looked down at the hologram he was holding so tightly, and an expression of intense contemplation appeared on his features. Satya remained quiet, willing to let him think this through on his own.

Finally, Junkrat looked up at her. Anger was still written on the lines of his face and in how stiffly he held himself, but that anger was no longer directed at her. “Owe y’an apology.” He said quietly. “Didn’t realise y’could make another one.”

“That’s okay.” Satya said in a rush, eager to soothe things over, and _very_ glad he’d seen sense. “There’s no reason why you should have guessed that. I ought to have let you know, in case it was lost, or… something else.”

Junkrat nodded, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Y’would? Make another one for me, I mean?”

“Of course.” Her words had too much warmth to them, and it made his smile widen.

“Still gonna wreck the cunt though.” He said cheerily, evidently not seeing Satya’s expression of horror. “Maybe it’s not so bad, if y’can make me another one, but still, it’s a matter of _principle_.”

“ _Jamison_.” Satya said, torn between fear, anger, and exasperation. “You have the strangest moral code.”

“I _am_ a Junker.” His tone was downright cheerful now, as he tucked his hologram carefully away and began fiddling with the grenade again. “And that’s how it works when you’re a Junker.”

“And you aren’t in the Outback anymore.” Satya countered. “So you don’t need to follow those rules now.”

“It’s in m’blood.”

“So get a transfusion.” Satya said, feeling worn thin. Junkrat broke into raucous giggles at that.

“Transfusion! Good one.”

Satya decided to try a different tactic. “What do you mean, it’s a matter of principle? What kind of principles did you have in the Outback?”

Junkrat seemed quite cheerful now. “Oh, that. Well, ‘s easy enough t’explain. See, resources are pretty tight once y’get out past the black stump. Hard t’get ahold of anythin’ decent. So, once y’got it, y’wanna hold onto it, roight? Problem is, ‘cause everythin’s so scarce, anythin’ _you_ got, other Junkers want.”

Satya nodded carefully. “So… if another Junker tries to take your property, you’re within your rights to… attack them?”

Junkrat nodded, pleased with her ready intelligence. “Yeah, more or less. Got a few exceptions, though. The other Junker, they’re exempt from that rule if they kill ya first and takes whatever it is they’re after from yer corpse.”

Satya stared at him. “…Kill?”

Junkrat nodded vigorously. “See? I’m really goin’ _easy_ on the cunt. Not that he deserves it.” He devolved into foulmouthed muttering then.

“ _Charming_.” Satya said delicately, then furrowed her brows. “And so Genji…”

“-has broken Junker codes.” Junkrat seemed delighted by this fact as he finished her sentence for her. “So he dies.” He shrugged in a ‘so you see’ type gesture. “He took m’hologram but didn’t kill me, so I gotta kill him. Or I should. I would if he was a Junker. It’s a matter of protectin’ me _honour_.”

Now armed with the facts, Satya tried to find an ending for this episode that would end with both Junker and cyborg still alive. “And is there no way Genji can repay this debt _without_ having his, er, nose smashed in?”

Junkrat paused and narrowed his eyes. “…You tryin’ t’get him out of it?”

“Of course I am.” Satya said patiently. She had a flash of inspiration then. “I took your patch.” She argued, and pulled it out of her pocket. “Doesn’t that mean I have broken your ‘Junker code’ too?”

Junkrat’s gaze fell to the patch. “Yep.” He said, and turned back to the grenade in his hands. Satya stared at him, mouth suddenly dry.

“Wh - _what?”_

He shrugged very casually. “I mean, yeah, I know y’did. I _toldja_ y’owe me for it now, remember?”

Satya _did_ remember. “Then why haven’t you threatened _me?”_ She asked a bit breathlessly, trying to show him how ridiculous it was to be trying to attack Genji when he hadn’t reacted to poorly to other ‘thefts’.

Junkrat, however, rolled his eyes like he thought she was being very stupid. “Because-” He said slowly, as though talking to a child “-I happen t’ _like_ ya, whereas I hate that fuckin’ tin can.” Satya stared for a moment. He lifted his gaze to hers and arched a brow. “Also, I hope y’realise I don’t care about m’patches nearly as much as I care about m’parents picture.”

Satya pursed her lips for a moment. She hadn’t thought of that. She leaned back against the wall with a slight sigh, folded her arms and began to think. Finally, she hit upon something she felt sure was going to work.

“Well, I suppose this is goodbye.” She said morosely, and though he didn’t look up, his fingers faltered on the grenade.

“Why _goodbye_?” He asked, a hint of challenge in his tone. “Don’t think I can do it?”

“No, I was just thinking how sad it is that this will be my last memory of you.” Satya was hamming it up a little, to be sure, but Junkrat needed it.

Junkrat’s gaze flickered to hers and to her joy, he looked a little uncertain. “Last?”

“Well, I was just thinking about it.” Satya tried for logic. “If you attack Genji, Hanzo will certainly come to his aid, and so will the others. Do you think you can take on the whole of Overwatch alone?” This was making him reconsider, she could see it. “And, if you do lose, which I dare say you will, what do you think will happen? Pharah will be delighted to see you prove that you’re nothing more than a violent, mindless Junker.” Junkrat’s fingers clenched tightly on his grenade and his lip curled, but Satya continued. “She’ll march you to prison herself. You _know_ she has the connections to put you someplace you won’t be able to get out of.” He was scowling now, and Satya moved in with her trump card. “And if you go to prison… I won’t see you ever again.” He didn’t react, and Satya frowned slightly.  “I _mean_ it, Jamie. You won’t be able to stay here if you attack Genji again.”

It struck her just how bizarre her life had become – here she was, sitting in a secluded and freezing monastery in Nepal, discussing premediated assault and possible murder with a crispy lunatic – whom she _liked_.

“Maybe that won’t worry me so much.” His tone was jovial but his face was dark – he didn’t mean it, she could tell.

“You don’t believe that, do you?” Satya tried for pleading.

Junkrat eyed her for a moment, then to her relief, put the grenade down. “Now, yer gonna hafta explain y’self.” He said coldly. “‘Cause m’memory might be shonky, but I _distinctly_ remember you sayin’ shit like ‘unprofessional’ and ‘inappropriate’ last time anythin’ like this got brought up.”

Satya frowned. “You realise I said that because you were drawing me in my underwear. That _is_ unprofessional, however way you wish to look at it.” He looked contrite for a moment and she looked down. “Jamie… it is possible that certain _sentiments…_ expressed in the past… mightn’t…. well, maybe I wouldn’t necessarily think that. Anymore.”

The silence was deafening, and eventually, Satya found the courage to lift her gaze to his, still cringing inside at her poorly worded sentence. Junkrat was staring at her, eyes wide and lips parted, his expression utterly agog.

“Oh.” He said finally, still staring.

Satya gave him a shy smile, and he turned contemplative for a moment.

“Not anymore?”

“No.” Satya was quiet content to leave it vague, but she gave him a smile in an attempt to show him her feelings. A slow grin was spreading across his face and it was making her feel quite alarmingly warm. “Though, that doesn’t mean-” - _it isn’t a bad idea_ , she tried to say, but found herself trailing into silence at the look on his face. Intense and so pleased it hurt, Satya found she didn’t have the heart to point out that getting involved wasn’t a good idea. “Imagine if Sanjay were here.” She murmured, in a vain attempt to distract them both – she had a feeling she’d revealed more than she’d meant to. “He’d have a stroke.”

That sent Junkrat into a fit of the giggles. “Hah! Sure’d set fire t’the stick up his arse, ay?” He giggled again, and pressure at her fingers made her look down to see that, somehow, Junkrat had wormed his hand back into hers. She was still for a moment, wondering whether to allow it or pull her fingers free, but the unexpected simple pleasure of it made her stay. She met his gaze and the moment stilled and lengthened and for a single breathless second Satya could think of nothing more than leaning in to press her lips to his. Rational sense triumphed and she did no such thing, but the thought lingered.

Satya lowered her lashes, the better to conceal her thoughts. “I ought to go back.” She said softly. “I’m sure someone will be wondering where I’ve gone.”

Junkrat’s fingers twitched convulsively within hers.

“Yeah. Prob’ly.” He said slowly.

The problem of Genji re-entered her mind and Satya looked up through her lashes as she wetted her lips thoughtfully, and Junkrat’s gaze focused on her mouth, causing a flash fire to burn at the base of her stomach.

“So. Genji.” Satya said in attempt to distract herself from his gaze, and Junkrat shook himself like a confused dog, brows rising as he looked up at her.

“What?”

“Will you promise me to leave him alone?”

Junkrat’s expression turned mutinous, which wasn’t exactly encouraging, though Satya persevered.

“ _Please_ , Jamie.”

Junkrat furrowed his brows and looked intensely contemplative. “But, he’ll think I’m a fuckin’ wuss if I don’t.”

Satya arched her brows. “…Remember that Genji isn’t _from_ the Outback. He wouldn’t think anything of the sort.”

Junkrat pursed his lips and didn’t say anything, but doubt was written all over his face, so Satya tried again.

“In my opinion, he ought to apologise to you, and then you should both let the matter rest.”

Junkrat rather looked like he was chewing on something bitter and unpleasant. “But, he took my-”

“I _know_ he did, but he didn’t know what it was.” Satya interjected. “If he apologised, would you accept it?” She tried to appeal to his pride then. “You know, I’m sure it’d be _very_ humiliating for him to do it. You don’t like him and he doesn’t like you. Would _you_ like to apologise to _him?”_

“No fuckin’ way.” Junkrat said immediately, but she could see in his expression that he liked the idea of Genji apologising to him immensely.

“So if he did, it’d certainly take him down a peg or two, wouldn’t it?”

“It would.” Junkrat’s tone was contemplative. “Y’know what, I do like the idea of that. But he wouldn’t do it. He’s too much of a bastard for that.”

“Oh, he’ll do it.” Satya said firmly. She had it all planned out – she would enlist Mercy’s help and _make_ Genji do it.

Junkrat raised an amused brow. “Oh yeah? Well, if y’reckon so.”

Satya smiled at him. “So, will you not attack him if he apologises?”

Looking a touch reluctant, Junkrat drew out the word. “Well…”

“Jamie.” Satya leaned in a bit closer, enjoying the way he blinked and swallowed hard. “Please?”

“Fine.” He said reluctantly. “Guess I don’t wanna get kicked out just yet-”

 _You mean arrested,_ Satya amended in her head. _Arrested, and sent to rot in prison for the rest of your days._

“-but if he takes anythin’ else of mine, then all that’s out the window, yeah?” Junkrat scowled. “I’ll shove a grenade down his fuckin’ throat an’ good fuckin’ riddance.”

Well, Satya was relatively sure she could get Genji to agree to that. “Agreed.” She said with a relieved smile.

Junkrat grinned at her and shifted a little closer, and Satya became hyperaware of the fact that her fingers were still twined with his.

“I’m going to find Angela.” She said abruptly, and Junkrat looked surprised.

“Angel wings? Why?”

“I want this Genji business smoothed over as soon as possible.” She said firmly. “I want you to stay here while I do that. I’ll let Roadhog know what is happening, and when you can come down.”

Junkrat’s grip tightened on her hand. “Y’don’t wanna stay for a bit?” His expression and tone was so hopeful that Satya could have melted right then and there, but all her alarms went off she berated herself even as she gave him a warm smile.

“I would, but I should find Angela.” On impulse, Satya leaned in and kissed his cheek briefly. He smelt good – warm and male, with the lingering hint of his minty shaving cream beneath the scent of black powder and smoke, and she couldn’t help but linger there for a moment, then regretted it. “Goodbye.”

Junkrat grinned up at her, his fingers creeping up to brush over where her lips had touched his skin. “Bye.” He echoed.

Satya walked to the door, tugging her coat tighter around her body – it was still bitterly cold, though she’d more or less ignored it with this whole Genji drama. She turned to smile at Junkrat, who was looking very giddily thrilled, then swiftly departed.

Satya got downstairs and went immediately to find Roadhog; he was still standing where he’d been when she’d seen him the last time.

“Roadhog?”

He turned to look at her. “He still angry?”

“No.” Satya smiled a bit. “At least, I don’t think he’s going to try to kill Genji, which is what I was aiming for.”

Roadhog appraised her for a moment. “Didn’t think you’d manage it, t’be honest.”

Satya felt quite proud at that. “Well, I did. Could you do me a favour, and make sure he stays up there? I still have some things to straighten out, Genji-wise.”

Roadhog nodded, and so she smiled and left, on her way to find Mercy. She found her on the way back from taking her medical supplies back to her room after treating Genji, and Satya swiftly intercepted her.

“Angela!”

Mercy paused and turned to wait for her. “Satya.” She said warmly, rubbing her hands together briskly. “What an afternoon, hmm?”

“And it has the potential to get worse.” Satya said seriously, to which Mercy looked worried.

“ _Worse?_ You mean the omnics?”

“No. Listen, I just left Junkrat…” Satya drew Mercy into a quiet nook and filled her in on (almost) everything that had transpired with Junkrat. “…and so you see, Genji _must_ apologise.”

Mercy looked worried. _Very_ worried. “ _Mein Gott_.” She breathed. “I had no idea the situation was _that_ volatile. Do you really mean to say that if Reinhardt hadn’t pulled them apart, Junkrat would have actually tried to _kill_ Genji?”

“He might have.” Satya said quietly. “It depends on how angry Genji might have made him. It’s like I said. The Outback holds a _peculiar_ moral code… if you can call it that. In his mind, he was only defending his possessions.”

“Well…” Mercy said reluctantly. “That does change things a little. It makes me a little more understanding of him, at least. I’ve been trying very hard to remember that he’s grown up in that sort of violent environment. I feel sorry for him, really. It’s all he knows, isn’t it?”

“I believe so.” Satya said quietly, and had a flash of insight. “I suppose that explains the disparity between Junkrat and Roadhog, doesn’t it? Junker life is all Junkrat knows, but Roadhog’s attitude is different. He’s violent and happy to commit crimes, but he can be reasoned with in ways Junkrat can’t, and that’s probably because he’s older. He knew what Australia was like before the omnium blew, but Junkrat doesn’t. In some ways, you can’t really blame him for his mindset.”

Mercy nodded, looking deep in thought. “ _Exactly_. I’m going to steal those exact words and put them to Jack – he’s about ready to blow his top for Junkrat’s ‘insubordination’. I think sometimes he does forget Overwatch isn’t entirely made up of soldiers anymore. But let me get things straight. Genji needs to apologise to Junkrat so Junkrat won’t attack him, but if Genji takes something else of Junkrat’s, the gloves are off?”

“Yes.” Satya nodded. “Junkrat likes the idea of Genji being a bit humiliated by apologising, which I dare say will make Genji all the more reluctant to do so.”

“I’ll say.” Sighed Mercy. “I still don’t really understand why Junkrat’s reaction was so extreme, though. After all, I’ve been in the workshop and picked up things on his bench myself, and I know some of the others have too, and he didn’t try anything like that.”

Satya shrugged a shoulder slightly. “Well, you don’t look like an omnic. Genji does. We also need to remember that we’re surrounded by omnics at the moment. Both Junkers are on edge.”

Mercy smiled. “You understand him very well, don’t you?”

Satya stared uncomfortably. _What did she mean by that?_

When Satya didn’t reply, Mercy continued. “I still don’t see why it warranted such a reaction, Genji being an omnic look-a-like or not. It only looked like a little piece of scrap.”

Satya bit her lip, considering. “It wasn’t scrap. It was one of his most prized possessions.” She said quietly, and Mercy turned a look of open surprise on her.

“What?”

Hesitating for a moment, Satya wondered if she should come clean or not. After all, it wasn’t exactly her secret to tell. Mercy _was_ trustworthy, however…

“I know what it was, but you must swear not to tell anyone.” Satya said softly. “Junkrat will be very angry if he finds out.”

Mercy looked curious. “I won’t tell a soul. Patient confidentiality is my specialty, after all.”

“True.” Satya took a deep breath and spoke quietly. “It was a picture of his parents.”

Eyes opening wide, Mercy looked startled for a moment. Then, realisation set in, and she looked horrified. “Oh dear.” She whispered. “Oh, _Genji_. Foolish man. Did he have to take _that?”_

“That’s exactly what I said.” Satya murmured. “But Genji mustn’t find out what it was. Junkrat would never forgive either of us.”

“I can see that.” Mercy replied, equally quietly. “Well, I’ll go and speak to Genji this instant and see if I can’t wrangle an apology out of him. Where is Junkrat?”

“He’s hiding.” Satya said shortly. “That is, he squirrelled himself away so Genji wouldn’t find him before he was ready.”

Mercy rolled her eyes. “ _Men_.” She said disgustedly, though with an amused grin. “Are you coming with me to speak to Genji?”

Satya shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Will you call me once you’ve spoken to him?”

“Of course. I’ll go now.”

Satya waited until Mercy had disappeared on her errand and then she headed back to her room to think, and to wait for Mercy’s call. Bundling herself into a blanket, she basked in the warmth of her heater whilst curled up on her bedroll, and thought about the events of today. Gods… she couldn’t quite believe she had feelings for a man who was so readily prepared to kill. Perhaps his only saving grace was his background. Junkrat was not a man from the modern, civilised world. If he were, and still professed such an inclination for murder, she’d have nothing further to do with him. The fact that he was a Junker, however, and had grown up in an environment where the smallest conflicts could lead to death, meant that naturally his perspective was warped and his psyche had been shaped by these violent experiences.

He was capable of change, however. She’d seen that. He was still violent, but more capable of being talked into some other form of dealing with conflict. Genji aside, the changes in his attitudes from when he’d first arrived to now _were_ impressive. Satya doubted Junkrat would ever outgrow these entirely (she understood all too well how hard it was to shake one’s worldview), but she knew the more he saw of the non-Junker world, the more he fit into it. She’d once overheard him make a flippant remark to Hana whilst in the workshop, when the latter had commented in a joking manner on his odd reactions to what the rest of them considered normal. Junkrat had replied, in a half-joking, half-serious way, that she ought to have seen him ‘two years ago’. Satya took this to mean that, when he and Roadhog had first left Australia, they were both utterly at odds with the rest of the world, but as Junkrat learned more and more about societal expectations and patterns of behaviour, he had adapted, or rather, was still in the process of adapting. That was what allowed her to look past his violent behaviour and see the man he was when he wasn’t threatening someone – the fact that nothing in his past had ever really told him his behaviour wasn’t okay.

What startled her most was how _easily_ she’d admitted her feelings to Junkrat. Satya couldn’t quite believe she had – he’d just been so stubborn about Genji, and while Satya knew part of her admission was merely a distraction tactic (one that had worked beautifully, too) the rest of her had been utterly sincere, and now that the words had left her mouth, she wondered what she was going to do. Satya had not intended to make such a confession to him. Not now, at any rate. She supposed that meant it was Lúcio’s fault. His plan, though she wasn’t entirely convinced it would work, had settled a glow of intense relief in the centre of her chest that was yet to dissipate. If it worked and he got her out of Vishkar, then she’d be safe from corruption… and she wouldn’t have to hide her feelings any longer. She liked Junkrat. She liked him quite a lot, and so far, she had only been denying and resisting these feelings because as part of Vishkar, it could never go anywhere without heartbreak. Now, though…

There was a chance. A tiny, miniscule sliver of hope that she might yet be able to live on her own terms. A chance of having a relationship she need not conceal, nor defend. It would be simple, enjoyable.

Satya found she liked the thought of simple.

With Lúcio’s little pronouncement, Satya had a chance to leave Vishkar, and… now that she’d thought about it, _really_ thought about it, she now realised she wanted to. They’d been her whole life, but now, that was in the past. Overwatch was her future now, and she looked down at her mechanical hand. If Lúcio’s plan worked, this hand would be replaced by a new one to satisfy most of the terms in Vishkar’s contract, and she’d be her own woman, free to do what she liked… and _whom_ she liked.

Satya smiled at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wherein everyone gets an unpleasant reminder that jamie is a junker and junkers are violent 
> 
> also wherein satya reveals much more than she was planning to
> 
> also I'm really????? at the snow bc last snow chapter everyone commented like, u have no idea what snow is 
> 
> which is true 
> 
> so this time I googled extensively and like, apparently january temps in the himalayas are around 18 degrees and yet w more googling apparently snow falls around 0 degrees and moral of the story is I fucking give up there's snow on the ground and it's cold as shit I hope u guys are satisfied XD


	55. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath at Nepal

Junkrat was having the time of his life. The rogue omnics surrounding the monastery had attacked three days ago, and 76, fed up to the eyeballs with Junkrat’s incessant nagging, had essentially made him exempt from the plan of attack and let Junkrat do what he pleased, provided he didn’t bring the entire monastery down on their heads, a condition Junkrat was only too happy to comply with. As it became apparent that they were dealing the very first wave, 76 had come sprinting over and the two had timed the detonation of Junkrat’s perimeter explosives – those had gone off in a magnificent display, sending tonnes of snow and rock down the mountains straight over the top of most of the very startled initial omnic wave. Since then, the monastery was nigh on impenetrable to non-flying adversaries due to the newly formed sharp cliffs, and for a while, it had certainly skewed the assault in the monastery’s favour. Then, the omnics had regrouped and reassessed, with the result being that the fight was renewed from the sky, with airborne omnics acting as a delivery service, dropping off bastions, OR-14’s and other such land based omnics before zipping off to collect another one.

As a result, Pharah had been working in double triple time, blasting across the skies to blow the flying omnics out of the air before they could drop their loads at the monastery. The snipers were in position as well – Hanzo and Ana had jockeyed for position atop the highest structure, and finally settled for sniping, one with bullets and one with arrows, back to back. Hana and her MEKA blasted across the rooftops aiding Pharah as best she could, and those without height boosting capabilities either manned the streets, or hopped about on the rooftops like demented ninja.

Speaking of demented ninjas….

Junkrat had, true to his word, left Genji well enough alone, though christ knew the tin can deserved every single thing he got. He’d made a promise to Satya, and that promise had to be honoured, he _supposed_. And Genji had apologised, marched to his room by Mercy and barred from leaving until the apology had been made. Junkrat had enjoyed it immensely, and the fact that Genji had been visibly fuming had made it all the sweeter. Still, Junkrat was privately hoping Genji would take a rocket to the face during the fighting. A bloke could dream, couldn’t he?

As for Junkrat himself, he was everywhere he could possibly be, launching himself onto the rooftops with his concussion mines and all but throwing himself to the ground below in order to fight any omnic he clapped eyes on, and there were a lot, which meant he was having the time of his bloody life. He’d made a selection of concussion mines designed to propel Roadhog’s great bulk into the air, and so occasionally for some poor bastard of an omnic, the last thing it ever saw was great mass of flesh and muscle crashing down from above in an impact that was liable to shake the buildings.

Junkrat spared himself the luxury of wiping the stream of blood that poured from a wound in his hair before it got into his eyes; he wasn’t worried about it as his vision wasn’t blurred, nor did he feel bad, and head wounds typically bled quite a bit. He’d been bashed in the face by a falling chunk of rock; the filthy bot he’d been sneaking up on had swung around and transformed into turret mode, blasted the spot where he’d been standing and brought down some bricks from the nearby wall, one of which had clouted him fair over the head. Junkrat had had the last word though, and left the bot in a smoking crater.

He scurried around a corner and plastered himself against the wall to take stock of things briefly; he could hear Reinhardt’s booming tones as he challenged his opponent from nearby, and then the ear-splitting boom of the impact of hammer on metal.

Just then, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Junkrat aimed his frag launcher, only to release the pressure on the trigger as Lúcio skated towards him at top speed, music blaring. He seemed to be emanating a golden glow and Junkrat felt a tingling on his forehead; when he raised his fingers to check, he found that the gash there had closed over, leaving nothing but sticky blood behind. Cheered by this, Junkrat ran in the opposite direction as Lúcio swept past, a hand raised in a brief salute as he disappeared around the corner. Junkrat spotted the doors to the main hall of the monastery and glared briefly, distracted by the sight; the monks were sequestered inside in meditation, having refused to lift a finger to help themselves or anyone else. Zenyatta could do nothing more than apologise for them, and state that he did not agree with their beliefs, which explained why he was out helping them. Junkrat got a kind of kick out of seeing an omnic fighting another omnic – it was kind of like watching dogs fight, though 76 had shot him down when he’d tried to start a betting ring.

An arrow flew overhead and embedded itself into the optics of a flying omnic, sending it crashing to the ground, and Junkrat giggled at the sight, before deciding that the action on the ground was lacking and so he threw a concussion mine to the ground and jumped on it at the same moment he dug the detonator out of his pack and hit the switch, blasting himself into the air. He spotted Tracer going toe to toe with an OR-14, her form a blue blur as she zipped to the side and shot it neatly in the head with her dinky little pistols, blowing its head clean off. Junkrat looked directly upwards and saw a flying omnic carrying a bastion; a quick glance showed that Pharah was off elsewhere, so Junkrat lifted his frag launcher and took careful aim at where he thought the omnic was headed, and fired. The frag flew skyward and the omnic soared directly into it, resulting in an explosion that made Junkrat’s ears ring and caused the smoking wreck of two omnics to fall from the sky. Junkrat’s crazed grin slipped when he realised he’d made a serious error in judgement; the omnics had been directly overhead when he blew them up, and now they were coming crashing down. On him.

Junkrat leapt sideways, heedless of how he would land, and though he evaded the wreckage of the two omnics as they came crashing down right where he’d been standing, he hadn’t put any thought to where _he_ would land and so found himself sliding down the sloped and slippery roof at a rate of knots. Junkrat panicked, scrabbling for a handhold, but came up with nothing, as the roof was icy and too slippery to grasp. He shot off the end and into free space, and then determination twisted his features as he clenched his arsehole and angled his body, hoping to land without breaking anything.

Junkrat impacted on a large pile of snow which turned out to have several large old pots beneath it; the pots shattered with a crash but they also took his weight with much more give in them than solid stone would have, and the result was that even though he was quite sure he’d died, he was actually still alive. Junkrat lay there with every part of his body aching like fire, blinking at the sky, waiting for his head to stop spinning and his legs to feel like he could stand upon them once more, and then someone skidded to a stop beside him.

_“Rat!”_

It was Lúcio, and Junkrat responded with nothing more than a bit of a groan as Lúcio performed a rapid triage and soon determined that he wasn’t mortally wounded. Picking up his sonic amplifier, the DJ adjusted the setting and fired the thing, and Junkrat found himself bathed in golden light once more. Just as rapidly, most of the pain and stiffness from his impact began to fade, and Junkrat lifted his head slightly with a groan, and rubbed his head, which was killing him.

“Jesus Christ.” He mumbled, then flashed Lúcio a slightly wonky grin. “Uh,  ch-cheers.”

“No problem.” Lúcio grinned at him, his teeth a white glimmer against his skin even as he continued to check him over. “What happened?”

“Knocked off the roof.” Junkrat managed to nod up at the smoking wreckage embedded there. “Got ‘em, though.”

Lúcio whistled. “Nice.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder then. “Great Hall, now.”

Junkrat managed to shake his head a bit.

“C’mon, dude. It’d be time for your break, anyway. My gear isn’t like Mercy’s, you know that. You’ve concussed yourself. You gotta chill a bit before you’re all good.”

Junkrat ground his teeth. “M’fine!” He protested, and Lúcio fixed him with an even glance.

“So why haven’t you gotten up then?” The DJ asked sweetly, and Junkrat glowered.

“M’gettin’ there.” Despite his snappish tone, Junkrat stayed exactly where he was; Lúcio’s amp had fixed much of the pain, but his head was still swimming.

“Rat.” Lúcio fixed him with a look not unlike the one Angela wore when she thought people were being stubborn. Junkrat scowled back and then an omnic rounded the corner. The bastion aimed and attempted to fire but then Junkrat blinked at it flew backwards into the wall that it crumpled on impact and didn’t get up again. He stared, listening to the whir of damaged mechanical components trying to work and blinked, feeling a bit dazed. He’d barely managed to register that he needed to defend himself before Lúcio had taken out the bot – and that was obviously what had happened, for Lúcio lowered his weapon and turned to grin at him. That was a sign that his reflexes were way out of wack, and Junkrat grimaced.

“Ugh, maybe I’d better take a spell.” He admitted, and Lúcio nodded.

“Good call, Rat.”

Lúcio helped him to his feet and slung an arm beneath Junkrat’s for support, and the two of them staggered down the narrow space between the buildings of the monastery, terribly off balance due to Junkrat feeling like his head was going to fall off, which didn’t help his now more lopsided than usual gait. They reached the end of the narrow path and Lúcio leaned out slightly in an effort to see if they could continue their way unmolested, and then an omnic in turret mode whirred around to face them. In what felt like a much longer standoff to Junkrat, he stared at the bot as it prepared to fire. His own reflexes were lazy and slow – he felt like he must do _something_ , but even as he could feel Lúcio’s muscles bunching and turning beneath him to propel them both backwards, he felt sluggish and non-responsive.

A loud German battle cry caught his attention and thankfully, the attention of the bot as well; the bastion immediately fired continuously upon Reinhardt, who advanced beneath the cover of his shield. Junkrat watched with a rather lopsided grin as Reinhardt got close enough and then, with a mighty swing of his hammer, the bastion all but disintegrated, and the knight turned and made his way over to them.

“Has Junkrat been injured?” Reinhardt addressed this question to Lúcio, who nodded. Junkrat didn’t mind so much – his head felt barely screwed on.

He tuned back into the conversation when Reinhardt bodily plucked him from Lúcio’s grip and hoisted him into the air.

“Oi, what-” He managed, and as Reinhardt placed him over one shoulder, Lúcio came around to where he could see Junkrat’s face.

“Rein’s gonna take you to the hall.” He flashed a grin. “Try not to fall off any more buildings, okay?”

Junkrat grinned from where he lay draped across Reinhardt’s shoulder, the metal plates of his armour digging uncomfortably into his guts. “No promises.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Lúcio went back around to speak to Reinhardt for a moment, and then the knight set off, Junkrat jolting down the alleyway perched as he was on his shoulder. He paid no attention at all to where they were going or how long the journey took, for all of his focus was on not dropping his frag launcher. At that moment, someone called his name and then Mercy’s face appeared in his line of view. Abruptly, he found himself being removed from Reinhardt’s shoulder and set on his feet, where Mercy then took hold of his arm and deposited him onto a blanket spread out on the floor.

“What happened?” She asked firmly, and Junkrat squinted around. He was in the Great Hall, on one of the bed spots set up for those in rotation whose turn it was to rest. Directly next to him lay Mei, sleeping restlessly through the noise of warfare.

“Uh… fell off a roof.” He muttered, and Mercy’s lips compressed before she began to check him over. “Lúcio already did a thing.” He tried to fend her off, but she would not be dissuaded.

“Junkrat, be _reasonable_.” That sounded like what Satya had told him when she’d found him after Genji, and he ground his teeth, which only made Mercy’s expression turn slightly disapproving. “I’ll never understand why you seem to be so averse to medical treatment.” She continued. “I’d have thought, seeing as you didn’t have it in Australia, that you’d welcome it.”

“Ngh!” Junkrat shook his head and bared his teeth as she flashed a small penlight in his eyes. “Don’t like bein’ poked an’ prodded.”

“Hmm, well, I suppose if you weren’t used to it…” Mercy mused as she put the penlight down and began fiddling with her staff, which started to glow. She raised it and slowly traced the staff down his form, and the last vestiges of pain and injury that Lúcio had not been able to remove gradually faded. Junkrat shook his head, which now felt clear and no longer foggy.

“Hmm.” Mercy eyed him narrowly. “You realise you’d managed to concuss yourself?”

“Yeah, Lúcio said.” Junkrat rubbed his head.

Her expression softened then. “It wasn’t bad, fortunately for you, but you’re still on bed rest for the foreseeable future.”

Junkrat scowled and she laughed and excused herself, heading over to speak quietly to 76, who had just hurried in, fortified the door again, and was sculling some water. To be perfectly honestly, Junkrat was glad of the fighting – not just because he got to wreck some omnics, but also because some of the others had been treating him oddly since the Genji incident, like a bomb that would go off at any moment, which was dumb. Surely they realised he had only been defending his possessions? Sometimes, Junkrat didn’t understand the non-Outback world at all.

Seeing that the odds of his getting out of the hall without Mercy spotting him were pretty low, Junkrat law back with a grumble and folded his arms to stare at the ceiling. He wondered where Hog was. Out there having fun, the bastard. Lúcio was too, and Hana – he scanned the room briefly. Mei was inside though, as were McCree and Torbjörn, who were sleeping, while 76 was talking tersely to Mercy, and looked like he intended on heading outside again. The rest seemed to be out there, fighting, and Junkrat sulked. It wasn’t fair! He wanted to be out there, blowing up omnics.

He wondered where the rest of them were, and what they were doing, and that train of thought led him swiftly to Satya. She wasn’t in the hall, he confirmed after another check and a pause to scowl at the monks sitting in their little prayer circle at the back of the hall. That meant she was outside, _fighting_.

A smoking hot woman was one thing, but a smoking hot woman who was also destroying omnics was enough to capture his imagination thoroughly enough that he spaced out for a while, picturing it. The only downside was that the Shambali was in the Himalayas, meaning that instead of that fantastic skirt, Satya was dressed in snow gear. Yeah. Junkrat was bummed about it too.

Mercy wouldn’t let him back out, even when he’d rested for a _whole_ hour, which Junkrat felt was unfair, unjust, inhumane, and extremely biased in every way. So, he sat on his mat and fumed, listening to the fighting all the while trying to convince Mercy to let him out every time she passed, which she refused, much to his disgust. He’d tried to sneak out but had been apprehended by Reinhardt, who had been resting at the time, and thus his escape attempt was foiled. Junkrat had tried demanding to be let out, but that didn’t work either, and nor did trying to guilt trip Mercy. Eventually, he’d given up and gone back to his mat.

The only highlight of being stuck in this stupid room was Satya; at one point she’d come in to rest (and McCree had taken off to replace her on the battlefield) and she’d sat on the vacant bedroll beside him, even with other spaces vacant throughout the room, giving him the most beguiling smiles as she removed her visor and chatted lightly. This pleasant distraction had ended when she’d curled up in a ball with earplugs in her ears and an eye mask that she’d produced from her pocket, and Junkrat had been left to contemplate how incredibly trusting she was. _He_ wouldn’t put on things that blocked his hearing and sight while omnics were about, not if you paid him a million bucks.

Still, he knew she didn’t like loud noises; in between taking off her visor (which she’d once told him had noise muffling properties to do with the circular thingies that covered her ears) and putting in her earplugs, there’d been a particularly loud _boom_ from outside that had made her wince. Peace and quiet seemed to be an integral part of Satya’s life; neither of which were available now, which made Junkrat feel sympathetic. Satya’d even sympathised when he’d rather heatedly told her how Mercy was saying that, as he’d barely slept over the three days they’d so far been fighting, he wasn’t allowed to leave until she was satisfied he’d rested enough, which only made Junkrat’s opinion of the beautiful architech rise higher.

It was two hours, thirty-three minutes and fifty-seven seconds later (which Junkrat knew because he’d run out of things to do and had been staring at the clock Mercy had set up at her medical station, attempting to telepathically make the numbers tick by faster), when the door was thrown open with a crash to frame 76 in the setting sun, covered in dust and pulse rifle held at the ready.

 _“Junkrat!”_ He bawled at top volume, and everyone, including Junkrat, jumped like he’d set off a bomb under their arses.

“What!?” Junkrat squawked.

“Where the hell’s your comm?” 76 demanded. “I’ve been trying to call you!”

Junkrat put a hand to his ear, realised that his comm was in fact not where it was supposed to be, and looked frantically around where he was sitting and then, having come up with nothing, shrugged. He supposed it must have fallen out when he’d fallen off the roof.

76 looked like he wanted to rip him a new one for the shrug, but visibly restrained himself. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got them on the run. Get out here and get plan B happening.” He barked, then looked over his shoulder. “Hurry up!”

Junkrat was on his feet and rushing towards the door before 76 finished his sentence, all the while digging through his pack for the detonator that would set off the explosives 76 was referring to. In the time before the omnics invaded, he and 76 had gone throughout the compound and placed explosives in certain strategic locations. The first lot, plan A, had been when his bombs had set off an avalanche to deter the encroaching metal hordes, but plan B was to block off the avenue of escape when said hordes decided to turn tail and flee.

He sprinted alongside 76, who was listening to reports from Pharah and her overhead view.

“Wait for it!” The old strike commander huffed without breaking stride, and Junkrat trembled all over as he ran, barely able to restrain himself from pressing his finger to the detonator switch right then and there. 76 had given orders over the comms to clear the area, and Pharah was their eye in the sky to make sure that no one on their side was in the blast range when Junkrat detonated the explosives.

76 skidded to halt and wedged himself against the wall, and Junkrat did the same.

“Wait for it, boy.” He said tersely, and Junkrat scowled. _Boy?_ Having pressed his hand to his ear, 76 listened to whatever Pharah was telling him. _“Now!”_ He barked, and Junkrat flicked the protective cover up and slammed his finger down on the detonator switch as he threw his hands up to cover his ears. There was a slightly muffled but still mighty roar as the explosives detonated, and then the screeching of tortured rock creating a landslide. It seemed like an eternity but was really quite short, and then the hollow sound of silence filled the air. 76 immediately got on the comms, barking orders and asking for visuals, and gradually, Junkrat began to piece together what had happened.

It seemed that, as the omnics were programmed to fight until they won or were destroyed, and yet were running out of back up, had formed a large knot of firepower in an effort to both protect their weakening forces and pick Overwatch off by forcing the agents to come to them, within range of their weaponry. In theory, this was what happened. In reality, Junkrat had rigged the rim of the entire monastery in certain sensitive spots, and when Pharah had given 76 the all clear that their teammates had retreated far enough and Junkrat had detonated the explosives, most of the omnics had been buried in a landslide, and the ones that didn’t, were being picked off as they spoke.

76 intimated as much and then they were both running through the narrow winding paths of the monastery to join the fray. Junkrat soon reached the site of the landscape, and ecstatic giggles came bubbling from his throat at the sight of the mangled, half buried omnics he could see. From all around people were bursting from their hiding spots to attack the remaining omnics, though he paid little attention to them so long as they weren’t in his line of fire. Finally, a bastion in turret form fell to his frag launcher in a fiery blast, and Junkrat fell back behind a corner, panting slightly as he wiped a smear of blood from his mouth, courtesy of an errant piece of shrapnel which had sliced his lip. Looking about, he saw no more omnics in his line of sight, and frowned in puzzlement. Several minutes later, following cautious exploration of the area, it became apparent that the fight was over. They had won.

Junkrat met up with everyone else as they converged on 76, who was taking in information and busily giving orders, and gradually, as certain people were sent to scout and others brought back their own reports, it was confirmed what he’d suspected; there were no more omnics present in the monastery. It really was over.

Junkrat had a private grumble over this – he wanted to blow more bots to smithereens, dammit. Still, he had no choice to accept things, and when Roadhog came plodding into view, wheezing through his mask as he sank heavily down onto a low wall to pull out his Hogdrogen. Junkrat spotted Mercy eyeing Roadhog’s industrious huffing with medical interest, but ignored her as he scurried over to Roadie, a beaming grin on his face.

“Hog! Didja see, didja see?” He forgot to elaborate on exactly what Roadhog was supposed to have seen, and instead delved into a lengthy description of the last omnic he’d blown up and how nice it had looked once it had gone explodey. Roadie was out of breath and wheezing badly, and Junkrat chattered on as though nothing was out of the ordinary, for he knew better than to ask Hoggie if he was okay. At length, Roadhog’s raspy breathing had eased enough for him to speak easily, and Junkrat was summarily informed to stay put, for Roadhog had used up his can of Hogdrogen and was off to get more.

Junkrat watched him go for a moment, then noticed someone standing at his side. Turning, he found it was Mercy, her eyes on Roadhog’s retreating figure.

“He doesn’t sound at all well.” She said softly. “He’s never mentioned it in check-ups but maybe I should ask him-”

“Take my advice, doc, an’ stay out of it.” Junkrat informed her, folding his arms and letting his weight rest on his good leg. “First an’ _last_ time I ever asked Roadie what that stuff was an’ if he was doin’ okay, he decked me t’kingdom come.”

“Oh.” Mercy’s brows contracted and she looked worried, tugging at a strand of hair with her fingers. “All the same, I think I will speak to him.” She said quietly, and Junkrat shrugged.

“Your funeral.” He said cheerily, and turned in search of better entertainment. He found that in the form of Ana, who beckoned him over.

“Looks like I get to congratulate you again.” She said amusedly. “I never think pure explosives will be _that_ useful in a fight but you seem to be proving me wrong.”

Junkrat giggled and went to reply, but at that moment, Genji appeared in his line of sight as the cyborg headed towards 76. His eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched, and Ana gave him a sharp look, then took him by the arm and led him over to the low wall Roadhog had vacated. Making him sit, she eyed him for a moment.

“Tell me what happened with Genji.” She said bluntly. “I know it’s a few days ago now, but you seem to still be hung up over it. Are you two going to get in more fights?”

Junkrat let out a low breath, eyes on the cyborg. “Dunno. Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not Mr Cyborg McFuckface tries t’take any of m’shit again.”

Ana’s expression was piercing. “What did he take?”

Junkrat shrugged and glowered in Genji’s general direction. When he declined to answer, Ana leaned back a bit and tipped her face up to the sunlight.

“I see.” She said, still leaning back. “I suppose it wasn’t any of my business. But, you realise this is a _team_ , don’t you, Junkrat? And if teams don’t work together…”

“You’ll kick us out.” Junkrat said easily, swinging his metal leg back and forth. “C’mon, don’t think I don’t know y’wouldn’t.” He continued when her eyes popped open and he saw her expression. “Me an’ Hog are mercs. More expendable than the _ninja_.”

Ana’s expression made him squirm; it was like she was seeing right inside him. “And you wouldn’t mind that?” She asked frankly. “I do recall one of our first conversations, you know. You seemed so enthusiastic to be on the straight and narrow.” Junkrat snorted and she grinned. “You know what I mean. Honest pay _and_ you get to blow things up?”

He couldn’t help the grin that unfurled across his lips. “Well, maybe y’ain’t _wrong_ …”

“Of course.” Ana sounded amused, and she folded her arms. “So. Does that mean you’d be happy to leave?”

Junkrat pursed his lips.” Well…” He said, drawing out the sound. “Depends.” He found himself thinking of what Satya had said – that if he was forced to leave, either on the run or sent to prison, she wouldn’t see him again. The thought tugged harshly beneath his breastbone and left him breathless. “I guess – maybe not. Guess it depends on what I’m doin’ after.” Ana raised an inquisitive brow and he giggled and leaned in. “In this scenario, am I on the run, in gaol, or has Overwatch packed up again?”

She pursed her lips in thought. “Well, I’m not sure of that myself. I’d like to have my future be certain, that’s for sure. But you know, Winston is in talks with the UN. He’s optimistic.”

“What’s happenin’ with that?” Junkrat inquired. “Haven’t heard much about it, lately.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Ana made a dismissive gesture. “Bureaucrats dragging their feet, as per usual.”

“Feh. Bloody suits.” He muttered, and Ana laughed.

“I’ll agree to that.” She absently rearranged her braid as it fell from her shoulders. “They want executive control over us if they so choose to legalise the recall. None of us agree to that, though; executive control was half the problem last time. They also want _explicit_ details as to who exactly responded to the recall, and Winston is trying to dance around _that_ , seeing as roughly half of us are wanted criminals.”

Junkrat giggled and Ana grinned at him.

“Poor Winston.” She continued. “He’s had it rough, and now there’s this business with Vishkar on top of everything.”

“Whadaya reckon’s gonna happen with that?” He asked, trying to seem casual. “Reckon ‘Metra’s gonna go or stay?”

“I don’t know.” Ana looked thoughtful. “She doesn’t want to be complicit, you can see that much, but she also seems like she’s scared enough to stay with them.” Her gaze turned and roamed across the space until it settled on Satya, who was sitting on a hard light chair next to Hana and Lúcio, who were sprawled on the ground. Lúcio was lying flat on his back, hands windmilling in the air as he spoke, evidently with some passion, and both women seemed to be listening intently. Junkrat looked at Satya – her expression was serious, and he wondered what Lúcio was saying.

“What I want to know is what they would do to her if she did try to leave.” Ana continued, her voice dark. “They wouldn’t hurt her, _surely_ , but she seems so terrified-”

“They’d take her arm.” Junkrat said a little grimly. “An’ everythin’ she has. She said somethin’ about re-education too.”

Ana’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s another thing. Satya’s mentioned ‘red-education’ a few times now and I want to know exactly what that is. Is it brainwashing? Like what Talon did to Amélie?”

Junkrat blinked. “Who?”

Ana raised a brow. “Amélie. Don’t you listen in our meetings?” When he continued to look blank, she gave a disgusted yet amused sigh and elaborated. “Amélie Lacroix. _Widowmaker_.”

“ _Oh_.” Junkrat frowned. “Shit, roight. Did you know her?”

Ana looked ancient then, aged for a moment by the weight of grief. “I did. Not incredibly well, mind you; she wasn’t a part of Overwatch, but her husband Gérard was. She was a ballerina, and a lovely girl. Talon took her to get to Gérard. They brainwashed her and she killed him. She’s been the Widowmaker ever since.”

Junkrat thought for a moment. “So.” He said slowly. “If what Vishkar does is like what Talon did t’Widowmaker… and if they get their hands on Sat… I mean, ‘Metra, they’d be able t’ _make_ her do shit… whether she wanted to or not.”

Ana nodded. “Yes.” She said gravely. “And I’ve no doubt that’s what she’s afraid of.”

 

* * *

                     

Clean-up was slow and boring and Junkrat very quickly snuck off elsewhere once the monks came out of their hiding place. He knew for certain that 76 had spotted him leaving but was also equally sure that 76 had let him go – no doubt he felt that the triple whammy of Junkrat, Genji, and whole fuckload of omnics all in the same place was asking for trouble.

So, Junkrat got to piss off in peace, as did Roadhog. Roadie went back to his room to pack; in his mind, the sooner they got out of Nepal the better. Junkrat would have packed, but the fact was, he was still to antsy and jittery from battle to contemplate such a thing, so he looked about for the perfect thing to wear himself out with, and eventually stood behind the monastery with his hands on his hips.

“Y’know what?” He said out loud to nobody in particular, looking straight up. “I’m gonna climb that fuckin’ mountain.”

Behind the monastery, there was a small path that led to where the mountain behind it was climbable, to a point, and then it turned into sheer rock faces and snowy drifts of the like that would require equipment to climb it safely. Junkrat of course heeded none of this and instead flung himself at the rock face with inordinate glee. It was hard work, and his clothes soon became frigid and waterlogged, and he was sure he couldn’t feel his fingers. His nose burned from the cold and his lungs were about to burst from the exertion, and he’d slipped several times, but he was having a great time as he slowly clawed his way up towards the ledge he could see directly above him. He got quite overheated about halfway up and unzipped his jacket, not realising this was a bad idea until he managed to get a fair bit of loose snow inside his jacket, which melted and soaked through all the layers of his clothes and into his skin, and he started to shiver. Junkrat zipped his jacket back up but that didn’t get rid of the freezing water now soaking his upper body as he kept climbing. Now both freezing _and_ sodden, huffing and blowing so hard he felt like he was going to forcibly eject his lungs from his body at any moment, Junkrat reached up, muscles burning, and grasped the rim of the ledge. Using nothing but his upper body strength, Junkrat hauled himself up and over the edge and collapsed flat on his back, breathing heavily, and shut his eyes to rest for a moment.

“What on earth are you doing?”

The voice made him jump and he nearly fuckin’ rolled right off the edge of the cliff, but caught himself in time.

“Jesus _Christ_ -” The words died in his throat as he took in Satya, sitting serenely on his ledge. It was bigger than he’d have thought, and had a large tree growing in the middle of it. Satya sat beneath this tree, on several blankets spread over the snowy ground, and she was watching him with bemusement.

“The hell are y’doin’ up here?” Junkrat blustered, his words almost accusatory.

“I wished for some peace and quiet.” She arched a brow. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Junkrat hesitated; surely it would look like he’d come after her, and he hastened to explain. “Uh, didn’t wanna stick around down there with those monk bots hangin’ about, so I uh, thought I’d do some climbin’. Didn’t know y’were gonna be up here.”

“I see.” Satya looked a little shaken, and he frowned.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She gave him a slight smile. “I’m just – I needed some space to myself after all that… noise.”

“Ah.” Junkrat nodded. “I’ll uh, piss off then. Didn’t mean t’bother ya.”

“You aren’t bothering me.” Satya gave him a soft smile. “Why don’t you stay for a moment? You look as though you could use the rest.” She patted the blanket beside her, and Junkrat gratefully shuffled over on his knees, unwilling to stand just yet. He lay down on his back beside her and rapped his metal knuckles over his heart, telling it to calm down, because they’d have to climb back down in a minute, and-

Junkrat’s eyes popped wide and he stared up at Satya. “How’d y’get up here?” He asked blankly, trying and failing to imagine the neat, perfect architech scuttling up the mountain like he had. She didn’t have a hair out of place; if there was an easier way up this godforsaken rock he was gonna be pissed.

“I made some stairs.” She seemed amused, like she knew what he was thinking. “Much easier than your method.”

“Huh.” Junkrat closed his eyes again. “Woulda thought you’d be down helpin’ the others.” He said without thinking, and felt Satya stiffen beside him.

“I would.” She said quietly. “But I – I needed some space. I talked to Angela and she said she would make my excuses to the others.”

“Oh.” Junkrat could have kicked himself. “Y’sure y’don’t want me t’piss off?”

“And watch you kill yourself trying to get back down? No, thank you.”

He fought to control his grin, and lapsed into silence and shivering instead. Satya wanted peace and quiet – what was that word she’d told him once? Decompress, that’s it. That’s what she had to do when things got too loud for her. She had to go and find somewhere calming or else she’d feel worse. Junkrat was sure his explanation for it was too simplistic, but he didn’t mind only knowing the gist of things. If she was comfortable with telling him she could, but he didn’t mind waiting.

They spent a little while there, Satya sitting quietly and Junkrat lying beside her, feeling like dying. He didn’t know what the fuck had persuaded him to climb the fuckin’ mountain, but all his muscles ached and he was shivering and cold and he was pissed at himself for making dumb decisions. Gradually, he felt alive enough to sit up properly, and peeled himself up off the blankets to sit beside her.

Satya eyed him thoughtfully and he grinned at her.

“Feeling better?” She asked, and he nodded.

“Yeah. Shit, tell me not t’be a fuckin’ dumbarse next time I feel like climbin’ a fuckin’ mountain, ay?”

Amusement had richly tinted her voice and he turned a bit breathless to hear it. “I shall keep it in mind."

“Cheers.” He said rather weakly, then scowled as a bitter wind snaked around the mountain and made him shiver violently in his snow dampened clothes. Satya eyed him in alarm, as if suddenly registering the dampness of his clothes.

“You’re all _we_ t, don’t you know that’s how you’ll get hypothermia or pneumonia or-” She admonished him gently even as she loosened the blanket she had wound around her shoulders and made him take off his jacket, then threw the thick blanket around him too. Junkrat clutched the edges to him tightly and huddled in close, then realised just how close she was now, pressed against him shoulder to shoulder in order to share the blanket.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, and her proximity abruptly took him back to when she’d last been this close; when she’d sat beside him and talked him out of beating Genji’s face into sticky mush, and finally, told him that she liked him. A warm glow started in his chest and he burned to bring up the subject, but he wasn’t sure how. He’d scarpered straight to Hog’s room after the whole Genji shitshow, and detailed everything she’d said up there in that cold little room, and Hog had agreed – he thought that was Satya’s way of saying she definitely liked him back. Junkrat felt having a heart attack at the thought – the woman next to him, the woman he’d never thought would look at him with anything other than disdain – she _liked_ him. Now, at least. He didn’t forget that very important part – Satya _hadn’t_ liked him, and for a while too, most likely.

He’d managed to change her mind.

That warm feeling intensified, and Junkrat practically glowed with giddy delight – Satya liked him. She really did. But would she act on it? The thought had him deflating like a popped balloon, and the words poured out of him before he could call them back.

“Y’gonna leave Vishkar?”

Inside, Junkrat informed himself that he was a roight stupid cunt as Satya’s eyes popped opened, astonishment at the sudden question giving way to guarded restraint.

“…I have not come to a decision.” She said finally, and Junkrat hastened to amend his hasty words.

“Didn’t mean it like that. Just thinkin’ out loud, really. Didn’t mean anythin’ by it.”

Satya’s lip curled. “You and everyone else. I suppose everyone has great fun discussing it when I am not there?”

Junkrat blinked at her, for even to his paranoid self, her words sounded overly bitter and mistrustful.

“Uh… not really. More like, tryna figure out just how dodgy Vishkar is.” Junkrat paused. “An’ hopin’ you’ll make the roight choice.”

Satya tipped her head to the side briefly, her eyes like icy chips. “…And what choice would that be?”

It was clearly a trap, and Junkrat attempted to navigate it as best he could. “Whatever means yer safe, an’ happy.”

Satya blinked; clearly, she hadn’t been expecting that, and her bitter expression was replaced by something soft. “Thank you, Jamison.” She said quietly. “I can always count on you to bring my stars back into alignment.”

To stave away the sappy grin threatening to engulf his features, Junkrat raised an inquiring brow. “You get that from a movie?”

Satya smiled. “I think so, though I couldn’t tell you which one.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He said easily, and sneezed violently. Junkrat rubbed at his nose sheepishly and Satya laughed softly as she rearranged the blanket, drawing it firmly around his shoulders.

“There.” She said reproachfully. “You’ve given yourself hypothermia and now what will Angela say?”

Junkrat snickered. “Dunno, but I don’t think I’m gonna like it.”

“Mm, she’ll make you stay in bed.”

Junkrat gasped in mock horror, and Satya’s lips curved.

“In the _medibay_.”

“Yuck.” Junkrat made a face and Satya grinned at him.

“It’s the medibay, not the ninth circle of hell.”

“Y’sure about that?” Junkrat giggled slightly and hunched into the blanket as another cold gust of wind ruffled through his hair. “ _Jesus_ , it’s cold.”

“You’re not wrong.” Satya looked up, a frown on her face as though she could scold the wind, and shivered slightly, and Junkrat pulled the blanket tighter around her without even thinking about it. Satya looked up at him, an undecipherable expression on her face, and he grinned.

“Hope we got all the bots.” He said conversationally. “Would hate t’think I missed one.”

“Mm.” Satya looked a little amused. “Would you hate it because you missed one, or because it would leave the monks in danger?”

“First one, of course.” Junkrat mock scowled at her. “Good waste of a bomb, not blowin’ it up. ‘Course, I wouldn’t mind seein’ the monks get blasted either.”

“ _Jamie_.”

He giggled. “Was only jokin’.”

Satya rolled her eyes. “I’m sure.”

Junkrat laid a hand on his heart, arranging a mock offended expression on his face. “Y’hurt me, Sat.”

“Satya.” She corrected, though she was smiling.

“Oh, back t’Satya, are we? Y’didn’t seem t’mind for a while.”

“I’ve always minded. It’s _you_ who never listen.”

Junkrat grinned. “ _Touché_.” He leaned back on his metal hand and promptly got himself scolded for causing the blanket to fall open, and so Junkrat, with his ever contradictory nature, immediately huddled in close, over-exaggerating his wiggles until he was plastered up against her.

Then, he realised what he was doing and who he was plastered up against and turned puce as he waited for Satya to move away, to admonish him, but she didn’t; she only looked at him with that opaque expression on her face.

“It’s cold.” She said absently, almost as if in explanation as she shifted slightly closer, and Junkrat found himself holding his breath as she nestled against his side. What was she doing? He’d thought – she’d _said_ – that this kind of thing wasn’t acceptable. Had she – was it possible she’d changed her mind? At any rate, he’d sooner cut out his tongue than mention it.

“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat before casting about for a conversation topic. “D’ya know when we’re leavin’ Nepal?”

“Mm, I’m not sure. By the end of the week, surely.”

It was now Wednesday, Junkrat reflected. Or at least, he was pretty sure it was Wednesday. Looks like he’d have to suck up at least another day in this miserable freezing dump.

“Sooner the better.” He said with a grin. “I want t’get back t’the workshop. Got lotsa restocking t’do.”

“I’m sure.” There was laughter in her tone and he giggled along with it.

“Whatcha gonna do?” He asked, totally innocently. Junkrat didn’t think for a second what her mind would have led to, or he wouldn’t have asked the question.

“Well.” Satya’s voice turned suddenly morose. “I suppose that is the million-dollar question.” Junkrat made a sound of confusion and she elaborated, her voice now utterly desolate. “I have to face it once and for all.”

Correctly surmising that by ‘it’, she meant ‘Vishkar’, Junkrat gave her a sympathetic nudge with his shoulder. “You’ll be all roight.” He said softly. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” She said suddenly, staring straight ahead. “I can’t stop _thinking_ about Lúcio. Whether he-”

Jealousy, hot and sudden, bit him right on the arse and he must have made some sort of low, resentful sound, because Satya looked up with an expression of open surprise, which changed to something wry as she tugged her lower lip between her teeth.

“Of his plan, I mean.” He must have looked confused, so she continued. “Haven’t you heard? I suppose we’ve all been so busy with the omnics. He’s concocted a plan to break my contract.” Satya gave him a small smile then. “I’d be able to join Overwatch, or so he says.”

Junkrat said nothing for a moment as he processed her words. A strange feeling was brewing in his stomach – a sensation of pure delight. “Fuck, _really?_ That’s great!” He exclaimed, but realised Satya didn’t seem to agree. “I mean… what do _you_ think?”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I truly don’t know.”

Junkrat considered for a moment. “But yer… thinkin’ about it?”

“Yes.” Satya nodded and turned to face him properly. “Yes, I have been. I can’t get it out of my mind.” She was quiet for a moment, then launched into speech. “It’s all I’ve been able to think of, these past few days. It’s a wonder I didn’t get myself killed because I was thinking about this _stupid_ plan when I should have been watching for omnics. I just – I can’t stop imagining it. What it would be like. What I could _do_.” She was getting more and more agitated, leaning forwards into his space as she spoke. “Do you realise what it would _mean?_ I could – I could-” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” She bit her lip. “I just… I keep thinking about it, and I’m so _stupid_.”

“Why?” Junkrat in all honesty didn’t understand why she’d be feeling that – in his opinion, she should be happy.

“Because it won’t work.” She sounded dead certain, and he had to fight back a grimace. “Vishkar won’t _let_ this happen just because Lúcio thinks he can – the thought is absurd.”

Junkrat got the feeling that wasn’t everything. “And?” He asked, and it seemed that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“ _And,_ I keep thinking about it but at the same time I don’t _want_ to leave!” Her words burst forth as though a dam had broken, and Junkrat blinked under their intensity. “And why is it so bad that I shouldn’t? Oh, I _know_ Vishkar is corrupt and they’ve made me complicit in awful things, but they were _safe_. For me, I mean. What’s wrong with wanting security? Somewhere safe and comfortable where you know how things work and what’s expected of you and you have a routine and a schedule and it doesn’t change!” Satya ended this outburst by clamping her teeth together. “I just – feel so _guilty_.” She said in quite a different tone. “I don’t want to feel what I do – and yet, I do.”

Abruptly, Junkrat got it. She’d been with Vishkar for twenty years – they felt like home to her and now her future was uncertain, he felt it was only natural that she would be scared and unwilling to see what happened next.

“I don’t reckon anyone else would feel much different t’what y’do.” Junkrat murmured, and Satya looked up. She didn’t speak, but the question was written on her face. “Look, not knowin’ what’s gonna happen t’ya is gonna be rough on anyone, dontcha think?”

Satya nodded, slightly unwillingly. “I suppose.” She said quietly, and in an effort to cheer her up, Junkrat continued.

“It’ll all come good. Y’think Lúcio’s gonna let Vishkar get away with this? He’s got the bit between his teeth an’ there’s no stoppin’ him now.”

Satya made a noise that was not quite a laugh. “Yes, I know.” She worried her lip with her teeth for a moment. “Do you think I should… try to stop thinking about Vishkar? I do trust Lúcio and Winston and the others not to try anything that would put me in real danger, but… do you think I should try to leave Vishkar behind?”

 _What kinda dumb question…?_ “Yeah, I think so.” Junkrat said gravely, trying to supress his inner thoughts.

“But then I won’t be an architech anymore.” She bit her lip harder. “I won’t be Vishkar’s top architech. Jamie… that’s who I’ve been for years. How can I change that?”

“No.” He agreed, then backtracked. “But yes as well, I reckon. Y’d always be an architech, with Vishkar or not. But y’know what? Y’d be Satya Vaswani, architech an’ an agent of Overwatch. Y’get t’be one of the people that save the world.”

Satya’s lips curved. “And what about you? Career criminal and world saver, rolled into one slightly crispy package.”

Junkrat dissolved into giggles at that. “I mean, yer not _wrong_.” He gasped out, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

Satya’s smile held a strange sort of warmth as she looked at him, her expression clear and her gaze penetrating. “So you want to be saving the world?”

He pursed his lips. “Mm… sorta. Don’t mind world savin’ if it involves fightin’ bots. Don’t mind that much at all.” All the while, Junkrat’s mind had been racing, wondering how to let Satya know it would be alright for her to leave Vishkar, that her worries were natural and that it really was in her best interests to be looking for a way out… but without making it seem like he was pressuring her into it. He didn’t want that – it was her choice.

“Tell me ‘bout Lúcio’s plan.” He said abruptly. “How’s he reckon it’s gonna work?”

Satya sighed. “He wants to blackmail them using the data I stole from Toulouse.”

“Oh.” Junkrat blinked – his vague ideas had been more along the lines of brute force. “D’ya reckon it’ll work?”

“No.” Satya sounded quite convinced, and he frowned.

“Why not?”

“Vishkar is a very large, very powerful company. They have lots of connections, political and otherwise. I doubt they’ll let themselves get blackmailed that easily.”

Junkrat frowned intensely as he thought. “But y’got the data, no matter what they think. What happens if y’reveal it?”

“Oh, there’d be a huge scandal. I doubt the company would recover without significant losses and a total change of leadership.”

“Y’don’t want that?”

“Not particularly.” Satya shook her head. “If I didn’t know, then it stands to reason that others would know either. It would be a _corporate_ affair, a corporate… secret. I don’t want to be responsible for all of my architech associates losing their jobs.” She pursed her lips. “Maybe Lúcio is right. Maybe this is the only way to do it. _This_ way, we can force Vishkar to change their policies and toe the line, and no one undeserving will be punished, I can keep my arm…” She was beginning to sound excited. “And I will be in control of my own life.”

“Yeah?” Junkrat encouraged her, wanting to continue along this cheerful track. “Whatcha gonna do?”

“ _Everything_.” Satya grinned up at him, eyes shining. “I’ll sleep in without being reprimanded. I shall make my _own_ schedule. I’ll be able to choose my own projects and I won’t have to attend any more of those _awful_ functions. I could _dance_. I’ll be able to go where I want and speak to whom I like and do as I please and I’ll be able to – to-” Satya paused for a moment, her expression vivid, and then she leaned in and kissed him.

Junkrat had been listening with a silly sort of grin on his face – he liked seeing her so happy – and hadn’t been at all prepared for it. When Satya leaned in, her hand gripping his collar to tug him down to her, her lips soft and warm against his, his brain promptly short circuited. “Mmf?” He was barely aware of the shocked sound he made but _Christ_ , the feel of her lips made him feel like he’d just set off a bomb in the pit of his stomach. She kissed him lightly, inquisitively, her fingers tracing gently along his jaw as they pulled back a hairsbreadth and she looked up at him through lowered lashes. Junkrat had never seen anything so beautiful, and leaned back in before he’d even finished processing what was happening.

The second time, it was better. He wasn’t stunned into stillness as her lips met his, soft as a butterfly wing. Junkrat tried to kiss her artfully but got lost in the moment, glorying in the feel of her mouth against his and his fingers tangled in her silky dark hair, his metal hand daring to rest at her waist while both of hers settled on his shoulders. The kiss was brief – they both had been – and when Satya pulled back with a flush of colour across her cheeks and a languid smile curving those lovely full lips, Junkrat thought he might burst with sheer bliss.

In the next moment though, Satya’s dreamy expression abruptly turned shocked.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” She said, sounding rather astonished that she had, and turned away from him. Junkrat’s mouth dropped open as all his fantasies of a third exploration of the curve of her lips popped like soap bubbles.

“What?” He sounded baffled and he was, and clutched at the fabric of her coat where his hand still rested at her waist. Satya started, as though she’d forgotten it was there, and forcibly removed his hand from her person. She tried to take her hand back but he snatched her fingers from the air to clutch at her hand and tried to get her to look at him.

“Satya. Wait.” He shook his head, entirely nonplussed. “What d’ya-”

“I should go.” Her voice had taken on a mechanical quality, and each word cut him like a knife. She tried to move away but Junkrat held her hand tightly, stopping her. Brows furrowed, he reached out and touched his fingers gently to her jaw, turning her face to his to reveal anguish swimming in her eyes.

“Satya.” He said firmly. “Wait.”

She bit her lip and looked down. “I have to go.” She said again, words soft, and he shook his head fiercely.

“No. Y’not runnin’ away from this.”

Satya looked a little shocked, but her expression faded into a quiet sort of grief when he raised his hand and brushed his fingers over her cheek.

“You kissed me.” Junkrat said the words slowly, exploring how they sounded, and Satya’s brows drew together.

“I know. I let myself get carried away. I’m sorry.”

Junkrat frowned at her. “Yeah, okay. Time t’explain, I reckon. Why’re y’apologisin’?”

Satya refused to look up. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“I don’t – there’s nuthin’ t’be apologisin’ for.”

She took a deep breath. “There is.”

“Like what?” He snapped, frustrated.

“Because I can’t-” She took another deep breath. “This can’t go anywhere.”

Desperation and anger rose up, fierce and hot. “Why not? Y’like me, I _know_ y’do. I like y’too. Y’know that. So why not?” Junkrat scowled. “Is it because I’m a Junker?”

Satya looked up at that, her expression startled. “No.” She said fervently. “It isn’t you. It’s me.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Junkrat snorted. That was a line that sounded like it was straight out of one of the sappy movies he’d watched with Hana. “Bullshit rom-com lines aside, do I get a reason?”

“Vishkar.” She whispered, and Junkrat reached his breaking point.

“Vishkar – the fuck, Satya! Y’can’t let ‘em control everything y’do!”

Fire flashed in her eyes. “It isn’t that.” She said indignantly. “I have no intention of letting anyone control me like that ever again. It’s just…” Satya hesitated. “I might not be able to get out of my contract. If I can’t, I _will_ be going back to India at some point. I won’t see anyone from Overwatch again. Sanjay doesn’t like me interacting with you all – he thinks you’re bad influences. He’d make sure I never saw you again.” She looked agonised then. “I won’t start what I can’t finish, Jamie. I _won’t_.”

Junkrat watched her for a moment, then reached down and took her hand again, lacing his fingers through hers. “Too late.” He muttered, and Satya blinked rapidly, eyes bright.

“I know.”

They were very close now; Junkrat could feel her warm breath ghosting against his cheek, a welcome change from the frigid air. Burning fury settled in his stomach, caused by her words – _Vishkar_. Those fucking fuckheads – this Sanjay bloke seemed like the biggest cunt alive, and he _itched_ to gift him a grenade or two. The very idea of it – she’d have to go back to India if Lúcio’s plan didn't work, and he’d never see her again. He entertained the idea of taking a coincidental trip to India, but quickly dismissed it. It’d be nice, but Satya would no doubt be surrounded by Vishkar dropkicks. He wouldn’t be able to get close.

He took a deep breath and got a whiff of Satya’s shampoo, fragrant and delicious, and felt the finality of things sink into his bones. Lúcio’s plan had to work, or else Satya would be taken back to India and he would never see her again.

“Roight.” He murmured, lifting a hand to brush her hair back and revelling in his proximity; he’d all but buried his nose in her hair and had butterflies going mental in his guts, unable to believe this was happening. “So we just gotta make sure Lúcio’s plan works.”

“Mm.” Satya sounded unconvinced. Her fingers had crept up to rest just below his ear, and she was stroking the skin there softly. Junkrat had never felt anything so good. “Maybe.”

“Y’gotta try.”

“I know.” She breathed. “I just… it just seems so impossible. It’s something far out of reach.”

“You’ll get there.” Junkrat promised. “I’ll help.”

Satya chuckled slightly. “Oh, you will? What were you planning on?”

“Mm, thought I’d take a gander at some Vishkar tower, I reckon.” Junkrat replied breezily. “Take m’riptire along, have m’self a real snazzy party.”                                 

Satya made an amused noise in the back of her throat. “I’m sure.”

Realisation sank in, and Junkrat pulled back slightly to look at her. “Y’not gonna… this is stayin’ here, innit?”

Satya looked up at him and nodded. “Yes.” She said quietly, taking his hand in hers. Junkrat watched her measure her own small fingers against his for a moment, and then she laced them tightly with hers. “You’re right. I can’t let this go further. It will be painful enough already.”

Junkrat squeezed her hand briefly. “Yeah, I’m gettin’ that.” Her watched her for a moment – curled up as she was at his side, swathed in a thick blanket, silhouetted against the gleaming snow – she looked so beautiful, and the only thing stopping misery from ripping at his guts was the fact that with Lúcio’s plan, he had a _chance_ – and that if Vishkar did not exist and she was not one of them, this whole thing might have already been going places.

 “If it weren’t for Vishkar-” Junkrat began a bit uncertainly, but he had to _know_. “-would y’have kissed me before?”

Satya looked up at him. “You know the answer to that already.” She said evenly. “Or have you forgotten Numbani?”

“I haven’t forgotten.” He assured her. “Haven’t forgiven that fuckin’ monkey, either.”

Amusement flashed over her face for a moment, before she settled back into serious lines. “I’m quite glad that Winston did interrupt.” Satya’s lips curved into something wry as his brows drew together in displeasure. “Think about it, Jamison. Lúcio hadn’t come up with the plan, then. I didn’t even know Vishkar was corrupt at that stage. I hadn’t even let myself accept that I liked you. Had I kissed you then, I’d have most likely had some sort of crisis.”

Junkrat blinked. “Oh. But… no crisis now? Or maybe not as bad?” He amended, going by the look on her face.

“Well, I wouldn’t say yes.” Satya mused. “But put it this way. I’ve come to terms with things, so… the instant I know Lúcio’s plan will work…” She trailed off into silence but Junkrat could read in her expression what she meant, and was instantly assailed with fantasies of kissing her, deep and slow, exploring her mouth and then, her body.

“Well!” Junkrat said loudly, mostly to distract his body, which was already reacting to her proximity, and was starting to get a little excited from said fantasises. “Looks like I gotta make sure Lúcio’s gonna make this work, ay?”

“If you can.” Satya squeezed his fingers and he squeezed back, and she gave him a fond smile. “I hope you can.”

“Yeah?” Junkrat grinned at her hopefully. “Y’wanna, now? Y’ _really_ wanna leave Vishkar?”

Satya took a deep breath, hesitated, and nodded slowly. “Yes. I think I… well, I think I’ve always known that I must. I just… didn’t particularly _want_ to leave.” She smiled at him briefly and looked down. “Some incentive has certainly helped.”

It hit him like a boulder to the chest – _he_ was the incentive. Or part of it, anyway. Junkrat couldn’t help his silly grin as he leaned in, kissed her forehead briefly, then gathered her closer. He did it a bit hesitantly – he knew she didn’t like contact all the time, but she let him – in fact, she looked glad that he had. It felt incredible to be able to do so – like all his dreams had come true, _and_ , he reminded himself. _They technically have_. Satya slipped her arms around his neck and held him tightly in her own embrace, and all too soon they pulled back, Satya turning to glance down at the monastery with furrowed brows.

“It has been a while.” She said. “We should probably go down soon.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Junkrat said without preamble, and she laughed.

“ _Really_ , Jamison?”

When he nodded and doubled down on his statement, Satya rolled her eyes and stood up, making him squeak as the blanket fell away and Junkrat was left to dive, freezing and exposed, for his jacket as Satya industriously folded the blankets and placed them in a carrying bag. He pulled his jacket on but it hadn’t dried, and bitter cold seeped into his bones as he stood there shivering.

“Come on.” Satya said softly, holding out her hand. “We need to get you someplace warm before pneumonia sets in.”

“Good plan.” Junkrat said through chattering teeth, and slipped his fingers into hers. He had to let go of her hand almost immediately afterwards as they reached the edge of the little cliff, and Satya wove a glittering blue staircase from the air.

He hesitated then reached out and took her hand as they descended and she didn’t resist; she even squeezed his fingers softly and linked her fingers firmly with his, and Junkrat felt warmth spreading throughout his whole body at the idea, this single point of contact that linked them. They held hands for as long as possible, and then, when they were too close to the monastery and were risking being seen, they released each other.

Satya gave him a strange sort of sad smile, then turned and walked away, leaving Junkrat to stand there in the frigid air, his hand tingling from the loss of contact as he pressed it to his chest, then sneezed violently and hurried off to his room to get out of the cold. His first port of call after stripping out of his sodden rock climbing clothes and getting warmly clad in a fresh lot of thermal undies, was Roadhog, who needed to be told all these fresh developments _yesterday_.

Junkrat didn’t bother to knock, just burst in and nearly got a face full of scrap for his troubles. It was only that Roadie recognised him before pulling the trigger that he didn’t get his features rearranged that day. Junkrat staggered over, tripping arse over head on Hog’s boot and catching himself before he truly ate shit.

“Hog! Hoggie! _Fuck_ , guess what-” Junkrat gestured incomprehensibly for a moment, and Roadhog eyed him, put the scrap gun down, and pushed the lanky Junker down onto the bedroll to wait out the garbled excitement so he could get to the real story.

Once Junkrat had relayed the significant parts of the story, (Satya _kissing_ him, his realisation that Lúcio’s plan had to fuckin’ work, it _had_ to), he sat back and anxiously waited for Hog’s opinion.

Roadhog was quiet for a little while, evidently mulling things over, and Junkrat was nearly ready to explode by the time the older Junker spoke.

“She kissed ya.” He said finally, and Junkrat nodded rapidly.

“Yeah. Whadaya think?”

Roadhog was quiet for another moment. “Why?”

This made Junkrat swell in indignation. “Why? The fuck d’ya mean, _why_ -”

Roadie waved an irritated hand and interrupted. “ _Why_ , y’moron. Y’said she didn’t wanna start somethin’ she can’t finish. So why’d she kiss ya at all?”

Junkrat deflated rapidly. “Uh… I dunno.” He wracked his brains furiously, trying to remember what had led up to the kiss. “Ummmmmm… oh! Hog! Hoggie! Fuck, okay. She was talkin’ about what she was gonna do once she got outta Vishkar! All sorts of stuff she’s not allowed t’do now! And then she-” He trailed off, ears burning, and Roadhog made an amused grunt.

“Got carried away, did she?”

“Yeah.” Junkrat mumbled meekly, still quite unable to believe that barely an hour ago, he’d _kissed_ Satya. He really had. He could feel his grin getting goofier by the second and Roadhog snorted again.

“Need a moment?” He rumbled sarcastically, and Junkrat was about to reply indignantly when he got distracted by a new train of thought. An _idea_.

“Yeah, actually!” He exclaimed, and bounced to his feet to rush to the door, missing Roadhog’s surprised and slightly disgusted air.

Junkrat actually got out the door and a few steps down the hall before he realised what Roadie had been inferring and what he’d inadvertently confirmed, and swung around midstride to shove his head back in through the door.

“Not _that_ , y’fuckin’ perv!” He blustered, face burning, and scurried off again, leaving Roadhog sitting bemused on his bedroll.

 

* * *

 

Junkrat’s idea primarily focused on Lúcio – namely, finding him. He checked the sleeping quarters and came up with nothing, and loitered in the hallway for a moment, confused. Then, he remembered they everyone was supposed to be helping the monks, and the only reason he and Hog had free passes were because they couldn’t be trusted around the monks. _Therefore_ , Lúcio would be with the others, helping. Impressed with himself for this logical deduction, Junkrat hurried off to the place where he’d last seen the others. He found Ana first – she was frowning at the wreckage of an OR-14, as though wondering what to do with it.

“Ana!” He called out, hurrying over to her side. “G’day.”

“Hello.” She looked from the omnic to him. “Come to help?”

“Nah. D’ya know where Lúcio is? I need t’find him.”

“Lúcio? Hm.” Ana looked contemplative for a moment. “The last time I saw him, he was down there.” She pointed down the alley that would lead to the edge of the cliffs Junkrat had blown up to create his little landslide. “I’m not sure if he’s still there, though.”

“I’ll check.” Junkrat gave her a cheery grin. “Cheers, Ana.”

Junkrat scurried down the path Ana had pointed out and came out onto the cliffs, where several people were working – but no Lúcio. He ground his teeth in annoyance and kept looking, darting up and down snowy paths until he found Lúcio and Hana. Lúcio was skating about searching for omnic exoskeletons which Hana would then load onto a sled type thing rigged to the back of her MEKA, and then cart them off somewhere.

“Oi!” Junkrat shouted, waving an arm at the pair. From inside her MEKA, Hana grinned and waved back, and Lúcio zipped back around the corner he’d just skated around and raised his brows good-humouredly. 

“Come to help out?” He called with a grin, and Junkrat made an exaggerated ‘pfft, _no’_ sound.

“Nah, was lookin’ for you, actually.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Got a minute, mate?”

“Uh, yeah.” Lúcio looked a teeny bit surprised, but turned to Hana. “You good to take this load back?”

“Yeah.” Hana’s voice came out of her MEKA’s speaker system. “I’m good. I’ll come back here to wait for you.”

“Cool.” Lúcio fell into step beside Junkrat then as they headed to a more private space, and Junkrat was beginning to feel increasingly nervous. “What’s up, man?”

“Was just talkin’ t’Metra.” He blurted, then frowned at himself. “She says y’got a plan t’get her outta Vishkar.”

Lúcio looked pleased and intensely focused all at once. “Yeah, I do.”

“Think it’ll work?”

“I hope so.” Lúcio shrugged slightly. “I mean, I can’t tell the future. I think it’s got a good chance of working, but like, I dunno what Vishkar might do.”

“It _has_ t’work.” Junkrat said, without thinking to lower the intensity with which he said it.

Lúcio leaned against a wall and raised a brow. “Yeah?” His thoughtful expression turned a little devious then. “Shit man, you really _do_ like her.”

His ears turned red and Junkrat scowled. “The _fuck_ -”

“Written on your face, dude.” Lúcio grinned. “It’s pretty obvious now, though I don’t think I’d have guessed if I hadn’t seen her let you into her room.”

Junkrat’s ears burned. “Yeah, well-”

“So she likes you too, huh?” Lúcio nodded and grinned. “Don’t think I’d have guessed that one, to be honest.”

“Y’think _you’re_ surprised?” Junkrat muttered sullenly. He shook his head then. “Look, mate. She was tellin’ me all sorts of shit about what Vishkar won’t let her do. Y’know, she thinks this ain’t gonna work an’ she’s gonna have t’go back t’em, so she won’t let herself do what she wants.”

Lúcio’s grin was a little _too_ knowing. “Yeah? Okay.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So what you’re sayin’ is, she won’t like, date you or anything unless she’s one hundred percent free from Vishkar.”

Junkrat felt a peculiar blend of feelings at the word _date_ – hope and nerves were doing somersaults in his guts and he grimaced. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Lúcio rubbed his gloved hands together briskly. “Right, so. We have to make this work.”

“Yeah.” Junkrat agreed. “She said somethin’ ‘bout blackmail – Vishkar’s big. That gonna be safe?”

“Well, I dunno.” Lúcio was frowning. “You know? I think it’ll work – I _hope_ it’ll work. They’ll be really pissed off, that’s for sure. But I mean, Satya stole all that data from them, and that’s gonna be the key point. Are they willing to let her leave in return for not publishing? Or will they go into ultra-damage control mode and try to get her back anyway?”

“She thinks they will.” Junkrat was frowning as he thought things over. “She’s scared of what they’ll do t’her, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah.” Lúcio agreed. “That’s why it doesn’t really matter if the plan doesn’t work. I mean, it’d be way better if it _did_ , but even if it doesn’t, Vishkar isn’t getting her back. Brainwashed Widowmaker is scary enough. Imagine brainwashed Symmetra! Only reason she _doesn’t_ annihilate everyone with her hard light is ‘cause she’s a pacifist.”

“ _Fuck_ , it’d be bad.” Junkrat said. “Imagine goin’ up against architechs who don’t mind killin’! Y’seen those poor bastards get stuck by her turrets? And they’re the non-lethal ones!”

Lúcio nodded fervently. “It’d be pretty shitty, all right.” He agreed. “So we make the plan work.”

“We make it work.” Junkrat echoed, and the two men shared a nod of firm agreement.

“Right, I’d better get back to Hana.” Lúcio jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You could come with, if you want.”

“Nah.” Junkrat shoved his hands into his pockets. “Don’t wanna run into any of those monks. Already got one strike for bad behaviour. Don’t need another.” He giggled briefly, thinking about how indignant 76 would get if he heard Junkrat labelling the Genji incident as ‘bad behaviour’.

Lúcio snorted. “I mean, fair enough. See you later then.”

“See ya.” Junkrat turned and slouched off back towards their sleeping quarters, aiming to go curl up in his warm bedroll with an unfinished grenade or two and think over the day’s events – and commit the kiss to memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we're finally getting to the GOOD STUFF 
> 
> ALSO its canon thanks to the short we know what rat looks like when he nuts SO get ready for That Chapter


	56. Lijiang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn Junkrat should not be allowed to own lighters, or do anything on his own, really

Finally, she could relax.

Sinking into a cloud-soft bed in a luxurious hotel in Lijiang, China, Satya let herself decompress and drifted for a while in an almost meditative state, before she woke herself up to contemplate things.

Jamison.

She’d kissed him.

Part of her wanted to deny, wanted to say she couldn’t believe she’d done it, but the truth was, Satya could believe it. She had enjoyed it very much and the look on Jamison’s face had just been the icing on the cake and somewhere in between the kiss and Lijiang, where he’d sat beside her on the dropship and been the perfect gentleman, making small talk, making her laugh and not alluding to the kiss at all like she’d wanted him to, the image of him in her head had transformed from Junkrat to Jamison.

She pursed her lips at the thought. She… could not allow it, despite how much she might want to. She would continue referring to him as Junkrat. It was safer. Or… did it really matter? She already called him Jamison to his face when they were alone. Satya chewed on her lip as she deliberated – what if she was being overly paranoid? But what if her deepest fears came true and she got entangled with him, only to be recalled to India? She sighed deeply and rolled over, pillowing her cheek on her hands. The truth was, she barely knew what to think anymore. What had started out as (in her mind) a silly attraction to a _Junker_ had turned into something soft and genuine when she wasn’t paying attention, and Satya _didn’t mind_. She turned the thought over and marvelled at it – once, she’d have minded. Very much so, and had, for quite a while. Still, being secure in the knowledge that her affection was reciprocated pleased her, though she was quite sure Jamison was possibly more excited about that fact.

It was only Vishkar that was the problem. If she was going back to India, she had no intention of having her heart ripped in two.

At the present moment, however, Satya was mostly happy, lounging in her bed in her blessedly quiet room, where it was warm and comfortable and quiet. They’d wrapped things up in Nepal and prepared to leave the monastery, only for Winston to make a detour to Lijiang, where he had contacts sympathetic to the recall. He wanted to restock, but also to meet with these contacts and assess the progress they were making with the UN. Winston was gone together with Mercy, and the rest of them were cosily ensconced in their penthouse suite, courtesy of Winston’s contacts.

It was late and Satya had showered already, though they were yet to eat dinner. She supposed she might go and investigate now, for she certainly didn’t want to be forgotten and go without. She sat up and pulled her silk robe on over her pyjamas, and tightened the sash before slipping her feet into her slippers and padding silently out the door. They had actually occupied the entire top floor of this luxury hotel – Winston’s contacts, one of whom owned the building, had graciously let them inhabit all three penthouse suites that made up the top floor, thus ensuring they all had ample bedding and no one had to sleep on the floor. They’d designated one of the living areas to be the main headquarters, and that was where Satya headed now, entering the hallway before sliding her pass against the lock, which clicked open and allowed her entry.

Heads swivelled in her direction as she entered, and with an exclamation from Hana that she wasn’t the food, turned back to what they’d been doing before. Satya padded over to the sofas and cast her eye over everything – Hana had bought an entire console with her to Nepal ‘just in case’, and had hooked it up to the massive flat screen on the wall and was currently thrashing McCree and Genji within an inch of their lives. Some wore pyjamas, like her – Ana was wrapped snuggly in a warm, fluffy robe, while Mei’s polka dot pyjamas looked cosy. McCree was wearing both hat and serape over his bare chest and pyjama bottoms, and Hanzo stood on the other side of the room near the windows, peering out.

Satya headed over to Hanzo and folded her arms as she greeted him.

“Good evening.” Hanzo replied. “This place is certainly nicer than Nepal.”

“Warmer, too.” Satya agreed.

They stood in companionable silence for a moment when the doors were flung wide to reveal Junkrat and Roadhog, the latter of whom strode in, looked about, and immediately headed to the kitchen. Junkrat wandered over to the sofa and peered interestedly at Hana’s game, chatting gleefully to her as she demonstrated just how soundly she was demolishing McCree and Genji. Satya covertly observed him as she chatted to Hanzo – the hotel had climate control perfected down to the degree, and it was a pleasantly cool temperature, meaning Junkrat had shed his winter clothes and was back in his ratty shorts.

His bare chest was distracting her.

Satya hated to admit it, but her gaze had been drawn more than once to the intriguing muscles she could see there, and the freckles smattered across his skin. More than once, she’d entertained the idea of mapping those freckles with her fingers, and then immediately dismissed the thought. No matter how much she might enjoy it, she couldn’t.

 _Not yet,_ said a small yet sneaky voice in her mind. Satya scowled and admonished herself – it would do her no good to build up her hopes if it would all come to nothing. Her gaze shifted to Lúcio as her fingers found the palm of her metal hand, stroking lightly over the crystal lens there. He had, before Winston and the others had left for their meeting, explained in detail his plan and how he wanted to go about it.

No one had voiced their disapproval, and no one had even suggested that they didn’t think she would be a good addition to Overwatch, which had somewhat surprised her. Satya was realising more and more just how much Vishkar had manipulated her, and subtly pushing that no one would accept her but them had been one tactic she was only just seeing for what it was. Even though she now realised what they’d been doing, it was still a shock to be so utterly accepted as a part of this recall that was really a dysfunctional family – but one that made butterflies flit around in her stomach and brought a smile of pure happiness to her face.

“I wonder how long we’ll be staying in Lijiang?” She mused, and Hanzo looked thoughtful.

“I suppose it depends on how long Winston spends talking to his contacts.” He replied. “Other than that, we’re just stocking up on supplies, aren’t we? We don’t have any missions here.”

“Not that we know of.” Satya corrected. “You never know. Something might come up.”

“True.”

Roadhog exited the kitchen holding a tall glass of iced water, which he took over to a vacant chair and sank down with a book. He had a straw in his glass, which he inserted into a covertly placed valve near where his mouth would be beneath his mask. She was yet to find out how he ate, but she knew how he drank, and so she supposed that was enough curiosity satiated for the moment.

Junkrat, she noticed, went into the kitchen with a curious, sneaky expression on his face, and so she excused herself and left Hanzo by the window as she covertly followed the Junker into the kitchen. It was only when she got there and Junkrat swung around with surprise written on his features that quickly faded to something inscrutable that she realised she’d forgotten to come up with something to do, something to explain why she’d come to the kitchen in the first place.

Junkrat’s gaze dipped to her legs, bare beneath the hem of her robe, and Satya averted her gaze and turned to take a glass from the cupboard under the pretext of wanting a drink.

She didn’t look at him nor speak as she filled her glass with a peach cordial that Ana had bought along for them all to share and added ice, and then, with her glass as a buffer between them, she turned around to find him hunting through the kitchen cabinets.

“What are you doing?”

His shoulders twitched with supressed humour, but he continued rifling through the cabinet. “Lookin’.”

“For what?” Satya sipped her drink and eyed him thoughtfully – this way, with his gaze averted from her, she could look at him as much as she liked. Satya’s gaze drifted across his broad shoulders and traced the freckles there, and dipped lower down, to the muscle cording his arms and bunching beneath his tattoo. The tattoo held her interest for a moment, and she made a mental note to ask him one day if it had any significance – it was a skull with crossed dynamite, so he might have just thought he was being funny.

So immersed in the musculature of his body was she that Satya didn’t notice when Junkrat raised himself enough to peer over the edge of the cabinet door, and she didn’t realise he was watching her watch him until he giggled an entirely self-satisfied giggle and she raised her gaze, startled, to find his molten eyes peering at her from over the top of the door.

Satya considered looking away but that would mean he had won and so she held his gaze, raising her brows slightly as she sipped her drink. Junkrat straightened up then, and continued the conversation she’d all but forgotten about.

“Timers.” He said casually, and flipped a small electric egg timer through the air in triumph. “Only got one, but.”

“What a shame.” Satya’s words were a little caustic. “How dare the hotel not accommodate your wishes to make explosives in the kitchen.”

He giggled and came closer, and Satya stiffened slightly and used her drink as a shield. She wanted to kiss him, to feel the warmth of him beneath her fingertips. It was an impulse she resisted only by threatening herself with the idea of going back to India having gotten herself firmly entangled with him – where was the sense in leaving her heart with a man she could never see again? Vishkar wouldn’t allow it, even if they didn’t know the extent of her feelings towards him. Junkrat was a Junker, a mercenary and a criminal, and all three of those things were off limits. Satya sipped her drink a little despondently this time.

The kiss in Nepal had been exactly the mistake she’d feared it would have been – one taste was not enough.

“Not makin’ ‘em in the kitchen, but.” Junkrat leaned against the counter and brought her back to reality as he grinned at her, seemingly at ease. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and his grin widened. “Makin’ ‘em in m’room.”

“And that makes all the difference, does it?”

“I’d reckon so, yeah.” He flipped the egg timer around absently. “So, Lúcio’s plan seems popular.”

She couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her lips. “Yes, I almost can’t believe it.”

Junkrat gave her a funny look. “…Yeah, y’can’t believe he’s got a plan or y’can’t believe anyone else’d be happy t’see y’leave Vishkar?”

Satya shrugged slightly and turned away. “Both.”

He frowned and reached out, his fingers grazing over hers. “Sat-”

Satya snatched herself backwards. She couldn’t let him touch her. Not now. “No.” She took a deep breath and tucked her hair behind her ear. “No, Jamie. Don’t.”

She left him standing there with an expression of anguish on his face and felt her heart splinter further. Back in the living room, Satya found herself a chair in a quiet corner and pulled out her phone, scrolling through her recent emails and messages, noting the ones she had to reply to soon for something to do. She had a message from Sanjay, wanting an update, and so she crafted herself a tablet and plucked it from the air, which she used to craft a short report, citing the omnics in Nepal taking longer than they had expected to defeat as the cause of her silence.

The report was familiar, if unwanted, and though Satya did not particular wish to report to Vishkar anymore she couldn’t exactly stop, not unless she wanted them to get suspicious. The format of it came to her fingers easy as breathing, and she all but zoned out while writing it, for reports were things she’d written and submitted thousands of times over the years. When it was done and sent and she couldn’t distract herself with corporate speeches any longer, she glanced about the room, and immediately found her eye caught by Junkrat, who had apparently gotten into an argument with Morrison while she wasn’t paying attention.

Both men were scowling and gesticulating angrily, though as her corner of the room was too far away from them to hear what was being said, Satya was unsure of the reason. Morrison eventually snapped something and walked off to join Ana, who put her hand on his arm with a few soothing words. Junkrat remained where he was, eyes narrowed and fists balled up, and then he sat down on the floor and started pulling things from his various pockets and his satchel.

Intrigued, Satya watched him, first with curiosity and then with surprise once she’d realised what he was doing – Junkrat had crafted a crude little figurine, and painted the top half of it blue. He apparently kept small touch up paint pots in his satchel, because he came up with some white paint and daubed it over the head of the little figure with his fingers. His expression was still black, and to Satya’s amusement, she realised Roadhog had abandoned all pretence of reading his book, and was sitting almost tensely, as if waiting for the moment Junkrat did something stupid.

She had to conceal a smile as Junkrat, by now concentrating intently, dipped his pinkie finger in some red paint and carefully applied it – he looked quite sweet in a crazy sort of way when gripped in the throes of inspiration. He grinned widely at the figure and held it up, then waved it about in the air to help the paint dry, and Satya inhaled sharply as she realised for the first time what the red paint was – white hair on a human figurine, with a messily executed scarlet ‘76’ scrawled onto a blue coat of paint – he was making a figure of Morrison.

What on earth for?

Her brows furrowed as she contemplated it, and then Hanzo appeared at her elbow.

“You seem very absorbed.” He noted, and Satya looked up at him with a frown and lowered her voice.

“Junkrat is making an effigy of Morrison.” She said quietly. “And I can’t figure out why.”

Hanzo’s brows snapped together in puzzlement and he lifted his chin to look.

“That-” He said slowly. “-is strange.”

He moved off and bent down to murmur in Mei’s ear, and she turned to look at Junkrat. Fairly soon, everyone in the room was watching the lanky Junker, and yet he seemed to be perfectly unaware of them, though Satya doubted he didn’t know he was the centre of attention. He seemed to have a built in radar for it, to ensure he didn’t get sneak arrested. He finished his little figurine and giggled over it for a bit, which made Morrison look a bit worried, and then _everyone_ looked worried as Junkrat opened a small bottle, flicked a few drops of liquid onto the figure, and pulled out a lighter.

Morrison made a muffled noise of shock as the little effigy went up in flames, and Satya realised from the intensity of the fire the liquid had to be something flammable to help things along. Just as she realised this, the fire alarms went off.

 _“Junkrat_! What the _hell_ are you doing?” Morrison exploded, shooting to his feet, and Junkrat looked up, his expression not in the least bit concerned.

“Nuthin’.” He said, then scrunched up his nose at the blaring alarms. “What’s the noise for?”

“Y’set off the alarms, dumbarse.” McCree said with an amused grin, and stood up. “We ‘sposed to be evacuating?”

“Probably.” Fareeha said, looking unimpressed. “The rest of the hotel will be.”

One evacuation later, Satya and the others who were not supposed to be seen in public were attempting to loiter near the evacuation spot as innocently and surreptitiously as possible, to avoid detection. Add to that the fact that she was in public dressed only in her slippers and robe, and Satya was feeling quite uncomfortable. Turning her head, she eyed her group – Ana, Morrison, Hanzo, McCree, Roadhog and Junkrat were lurking in the shadows of the garden, as was she, while those who weren’t going to arouse suspicion if they were spotted were with the other patrons of the hotel, mingling irritably on the lawn in their nightclothes, waiting for the fire brigade to give the all clear.

In order to conceal the true cause of the fire alarms, Ana had lit the toaster on fire with bread inside before they evacuated, to give the impression that burnt toast had started the blaze – an excuse that was far more reputable than a Junker constructing and burning effigies in the living room. Sneaking a look at the Junker in question, Satya could tell he couldn’t care less that this whole thing was his fault, and in any case, she suspected that if pressed he would argue that it was Morrison’s fault for provoking him.

Junkrat was sitting in the shadow of a hedge beside Roadhog, who looked exasperated despite the mask. Really, it was amazing the range of emotions he could convey even with his concealed features. A brief flicker of curiosity danced through her at the thought of what the big Junker’s face might look like, but she dismissed it. Roadhog surely had reason to keep his face hidden, and who was she to disrespect that? Junkrat was digging through his satchel and chattering animatedly to his bodyguard, who nodded along and grunted at certain intervals. This method of communication certainly didn’t deter his lanky charge, who kept up a running stream of commentary on his every move as though dictating his memoirs. It was endearing, in a sense, and Satya turned away, teeth pressed into her lower lip as she tried to prevent a smile. Roadhog looked up at her in that moment, and she caught his gaze for a moment as she turned. Once out of sight, Junkrat’s chatter stopped very suddenly, and Satya turned back just enough to see that Roadhog had apparently alerted him to her gaze, and he was staring up at her, eyes half-lidded and his grin complacent.

His expression made her want to touch him, to smooth down his messy hair and wipe the smile from his lips and then explore him, intimately and privately, to delve into his mind and uncover what made him so impossibly appealing. Satya turned away again, away from Junkrat’s dangerous gaze and went to stand by Hanzo, to draw him into conversation, quiet and safe, and distract herself from the Junker she wanted to decipher.

It took the better part of two hours but eventually they were allowed back into the hotel, as the firefighters clambered into their trucks to leave and yawning guests stumbled, heavy limbed with boredom, back to their rooms. Their own group was tense as they rode the elevator back to their penthouse suits; Junkrat was in another elevator as they couldn’t all fit into one, but Morrison was in with her and Satya could see him smouldering, ready to corner Junkrat and explode on him, and she figured this was one explosion the Junker would be decidedly less keen on.

It was by now nearly eleven o’clock, and their whole dinner schedule had been interrupted. They found a message, sent to all the guests of the hotel, informing them that due to the interruption, no dinner was yet prepared, and instructed them to call reception if they still wanted room service, and that no reply would be taken as an invitation to cancel their order. In the end, they decided to cancel their dinner order, and Reinhardt and Torbjörn went out to get take away and bring it back to their room. While waiting for dinner, Satya arranged herself in a chair and chatted to Mei for a while, but found herself distracted, as was Mei, by the sight of Morrison beginning to make a beeline for Junkrat, only to be pulled up short by Ana’s grip on his arm. The sniper dragged Morrison into the corner and proceeded to have an argument with him, the gist of which Satya gathered was that seeing as that reprimands _clearly_ didn’t work on Junkrat, didn’t Jack think it was time to try something new? To which Morrison argued that all Junkrat needed was a healthy dose of discipline, which Ana refuted by raising her brows and asking him just how he intended to upbraid Junkrat when the latter so obviously didn’t care what Morrison thought?

The whole thing was vastly entertaining, particularly when Satya noticed Junkrat listening to Morrison get thoroughly steamrolled with a broad grin on his face. Ana eventually persuaded him that positive reinforcement would work better, and Morrison went to sit on the sofa besides a barely holding it together McCree, while Ana headed towards Junkrat. He watched her come with twitching lips, evidently just managing to keep laughter in check, and Ana was on the verge of giggles too as she knelt beside him.

“Junkrat.” She began gravely, then bowed her head as giggles escaped both of them, and Satya had to bite her knuckle to prevent an errant snicker escaping, as did most of the people in the room. “Junkrat.” Ana said again, compressing her lips to stop herself from laughing. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Yeah?” Junkrat giggled, the sound high pitched and excited. “What do I get?”

Beside her, Mei giggle-snorted and clamped her hand over her mouth, and Satya bit her knuckle harder at the sight of Hana turning puce with the effort of keeping herself quiet.

“Well.” Ana had to pause and compose herself before continuing. “We can’t have any more fire alarms or burnt toasters, so here’s the deal. You keep your lighters _un_ lit and on the next mission, I’ll pull some strings with Winston, and you get…” Ana paused to ponder on what would be a good incentive for him, while Junkrat slowly raised a brow, struggling to control his grin. “Hm… well, I got nothing. I’ll think of something, though.”

Lúcio gave up all pretence of keeping quiet and buried himself in a pillow, shoulders shaking, as Junkrat started turning puce with the effort of not laughing. Hana patted the DJ’s back, her cheeks blown out like a chipmunk as she held her breath in an effort to stave off the giggles.

“Yeah? Well, I dunno.” Junkrat leaned back on his hand, a thoughtful expression on his face that was only _just_ ruined by his twitching lips. “Gonna hafta think about that one.”

“New bombs.” Ana said promptly, and Junkrat raised a brow.

“Mm, now we’re getting somewhere.” He grinned, gold teeth flashing.

Ana visibly pondered for a moment, and then turned to Pharah. “Fareeha, dear, you can put in requests, can’t you?”

Pharah frowned. “Yeah, but-”

Ana talked over her, turning back to Junkrat. “Explosives. Real deal military type stuff. Stuff you can’t get on the black market.”

Junkrat made a thoughtful face as Pharah made a shocked noise.

“I can’t do that, Mom!” She protested. “It’d be illegal for me to acquire it for a civilian-”

“Y’gotcha self a deal!” Junkrat said loudly, no doubt bolstered by the thought of illegal, secret military explosives. He stuck out his hand and Ana shook it with a grin.

“ _Mom_!” Pharah protested.

“Come on Fareeha, don’t you think this is an acceptable trade off to _not_ having the place burn down around our ears?”

Fareeha looked like she was chewing on something unpleasant, and Junkrat grinned widely and jerked a thumb into his chest.

“Nuthin’ t’worry about.” He boasted, puffing up his chest. “I’m a _professional_.”

Tracer giggle-snorted, and having taken a sip of her drink at the most inopportune moment, sprayed lemonade all over Genji, who made a noise like a scalded cat. That did it – the entire room dissolved into laughter around a blinking Junkrat, who ended up giggling hysterically himself. Satya held her hand to her mouth in a futile attempt to control herself, but then Tracer attempted to mop up Genji’s visor and ended up tipping her entire drink into his lap before collapsing into a helplessly giggling heap, and Satya couldn’t stop herself from laughing if she tried.  

The laughing ‘banter’ as Tracer called it, continued until the door swept wide to reveal Reinhardt and Torbjörn laden with take away bags, and rather than sit at the dining table, they all decided to sit on the floor. Satya did _not_ decide to sit on the floor but she took a cushion and sat on it instead. The food was hot and delicious and everyone stuffed themselves full to bursting of savoury dishes, dumplings, baba and black goat hotpot from the restaurant two streets over.

Then, full and rather sleepy, they tidied up and some retired to bed while others went to the sofa to sit and chat. Winston and Mercy arrived back not too much later, and set themselves at the dining table to tell those who wanted to hear about their meeting. Satya settled into an armchair with Lúcio debating some minor points of his plan while Hana challenged Ana to a first-person shooter and got soundly defeated.  Satya was relaxed and content, and so when the hotel intercom buzzed and Tracer flashed over to answer it, she thought nothing of it.

“Uh, Satya?”

Satya looked up to find Tracer staring at her with a puzzled expression on her face, the receiver pressed to her ear.

“What?” Satya asked, frowning. The _intercom?_ Was someone asking for her…? But who?

“Vishkar’s on the line.” Tracer continued, and Satya’s heart froze in fear. Whoever was on the line apparently said something, because Tracer pressed the receiver tighter against her head and listened. “Yeah, okay.” She said into the phone, then held it out. “They wanna speak to ya.”

Satya tried to squeeze the tremble out of her fingertips, and stared at the intercom panel, which now seemed very far away. Vishkar would _never_ call on a public line like this. They would call _her_ phone, not a hotel intercom… something was wrong.

“Don’t do it.” Lúcio said urgently. “Don’t talk to ‘em!”

“I have to.” Satya said mechanically. “They’ll think something is wrong.”

Her heart was going a million miles a minute and her mind was racing – they _already_ knew, she was certain of it. Maybe Sanjay didn’t know that she was planning to leave, but he _certainly_ knew that she knew about Rio. They’d been at a stalemate, but what if this was an attempt on their part to come out on top? Her breath shortened slightly. She was in China, in Lijiang, which was in Yunnan province – _which directly bordered India._ Satya tried to ignore this horrifying revelation as she crossed the room and took the receiver from Tracer, facing the wall in order to escape the looks she was getting from everyone.

“Good evening, Satya speaking.” She said in English, shifting into her professional tone of voice.

“Good evening, Satya.” Replied a familiar voice in English, before switching to Hindi. _Sanjay_. “I do apologise for the late hour – I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you.”

“Not at all.” Satya replied automatically, shifting into Hindi. “That is, we’re running through a briefing so this will have to be short. Is there something you needed?”

“I’m downstairs.” Sanjay said smoothly. “I was in the area. Perhaps you’d like to come down? We can catch up, go over your recent activities for your next report.”

Satya’s eyes narrowed. She was of two minds… one, perhaps Sanjay did just want to talk, or two... it might be a trap. And if it was a trap… Really, it would be _so_ transparent an attempt to lure her downstairs she was actually insulted if he thought it would work. “I’m afraid I can’t, not just right now.” She said a little more brusquely than she intended. “We’re in the middle of something, you see.”

“Of course.” Sanjay said graciously. “We’ll be in the area for a little while. Let me know if you can make it.”

“We?” She asked. “A trip, is it? Who else is there?”

Sanjay carelessly named a few people – mostly corporate, like him, but a few architechs were apparently along for the trip.

“I see.” Satya nodded to herself. “I’ll try to get down but it depends if this briefing finishes early enough. My apologies if I don’t make it.”

“I hope you do.” Sanjay said smoothly, and something in the way he said it made a prickle run down her spine.

“Goodbye, Sanjay.” She said quietly, and hung up. She pursed her lips, then turned to face everyone.

“Well?” Lúcio almost exploded with impatience. “What’d they say? What do they want?”

“It’s Sanjay. He’s here.” Satya replied absently, thinking hard. “He wants me to meet him in the lobby.”

“Don’t go.” Lúcio said immediately. “It’s gotta be a trap.”

“I know _that_.” Satya snapped. “We’re in Yunnan. We aren’t far from India and once they’ve got me across the border they’re home free.”

This was greeted with horror.

“Right.” Pharah said grimly, taking command. “We lock down the hotel room. No one gets in or out. They can’t wait in the lobby forever, and if they do we’ll come up with plan B. Satya, what kind of capabilities are we talking? Would they attempt any sort of assault?”

“Gods, I doubt it.” At the looks Satya got for this statement, she barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Vishkar isn’t as military as you all seem to think. We’re architechs. We build houses.”

“ _You_ don’t.” McCree drawled. “I’ve seen y’take down plenty of baddies but I ain’t ever seen y’build a house.”

Satya took in a deep breath, held it, then released it slowly. “I-” She said very precisely. “-am an outlier.” She tossed her hair irritably. “Besides, what opportunity would I have had to build any housing while with Overwatch?”

McCree nodded in vague acquiescence as Ana narrowed her eyes in thought.

“Are you _sure_ about that?” She asked. “You’re absolutely _positive_ the other architechs don’t fight like you do? You haven’t been there for a while, not to mention that they’ve been hiding things from you.”

Satya opened her mouth to reply, but hesitated.

“If you can’t say yes with absolute certainty-” Ana said grimly. “-say nothing.” Satya closed her mouth, and Ana nodded and clapped her hands. “Alright, listen up everyone. We’ll stay in this suite, because Vishkar would have access to the hallway. Is everyone here?”

After a rapid headcount (that also involved dragging those who’d gone to bed back into the living room), it was established that everyone was there – everyone but two.

Junkrat and Roadhog.

“Okay, here’s the deal.” Morrison took command after they realised that the two Junkers were absent. “We need to work out their location – if they’re hostages, we need to stage a rescue. If they’ve just wandered off, we need to get a message to them so they stay hidden. I-”

At that moment, Morrison was interrupted by the door into the hall opening to reveal Roadhog, who was carrying a book and seemed perfectly at ease. He was also alone. The big Junker stood stupefied for a moment at the general uproar that greeted his appearance, and after hasty explanations he moved into the room and locked the door behind him.

“Where’s Junkrat?” Hana nearly shouted. “Aren’t you gonna let him in?”

Roadhog’s shoulders stiffened visibly and he swung around to glare at a corner of the room – where several shells and a paint pot lay abandoned. Junkrat, or so it seemed, was not where his bodyguard had left him.

A hasty yet intent discussion of Junkrat’s possible whereabouts followed this discovery, and then Roadhog all but ripped the door off its hinges as he went to check the other suites, for it was possible that Junkrat was in his room or up to something in the swanky suites. Morrison sent Genji and McCree after Roadhog as backup, and the latter looked comical indeed, dressed as he was in pyjama pants and a hat, serape swathed over his bare shoulders and Peacekeeper in his hand.

While the three men hunted for Junkrat, the rest of them set about fortifying the room. They collected their weapons and made sure they were primed for attack, locked any doors that led outside and drew the curtains over every window. As the penthouse suites were made for the rich and famous, the glass was bullet proof and also had missile proof shutters, which they activated. Satya watched them click into place with a sense of despair – how could this be happening?

There came a knock at the door, which identified itself as Genji. Upon being let in again, they grimly revealed that Junkrat was nowhere to be found on the entire upper floor. There was a dismal silence at this, and then they started making plans to scope out the lobby in search of Junkrat, and coming up with a strategy to rescue him if he’d been captured by Vishkar.

Fear gripped her insides – Vishkar was here for her. If anything happened to him… it was her fault.

What no one could figure out was _why_ he’d gone, as well as where. Roadhog was champing at the bit to get downstairs and locate his boss, but with a bit of difficulty, they’d convinced him it was better to spend a few moments coming up with a plan rather than blinding marching in and getting themselves killed. They were just wrapping up and preparing to leave (those of whom were not staying behind, as Satya herself had been designated something to protect and was not permitted to leave the room), when the doorknob jiggled.

Everyone fell silent, weapons raised, as the knob jiggled again and then something that sounded very much like a metal fist pounded on the door.

“Oi! Why’s the door locked?” Junkrat sounded irritated and then the slightest bit sheepish as he continued. “Someone gonna let me in? Don’t have m’unlocky thingo with me.”

Morrison made some hand signals and he and McCree crept to either side of the door while the rest of them hunkered down behind the sofas, in case this was a trap and Vishkar was forcing Junkrat to knock. Satya held her breath and kept her hands poised to create a shield in a split second if necessary, all the while hoping against hope that no one would be hurt because of her. Morrison and McCree nodded briefly at each other, and Satya watched, her heart in her throat as Morrison swiftly unlocked the door and threw it wide. Junkrat had been slouching casually, hands in his pockets, but when the door swung wide with a bang and Morrison and McCree leapt out to point their guns in his face, he just about leapt out of his skin and took off down the corridor. Morrison and McCree followed, and after a few moments of shouting, the three of them trooped back in, the two soldiers grimly holstering their weapons while the Junker went in front, looking completely lost.

Junkrat stared around at the makeshift battle station, the bristling weapons strapped over pyjamas and the fortifications around the sofa with an air of complete bewilderment. In the next second, he got bowled over by Roadhog charging at him like a steam train, lifting him bodily into the air to ascertain any damage. Roadhog set his boss back on his feet after satisfying himself that Junkrat was unharmed, only for Junkrat to be accosted by Mercy. This made him skitter backwards, hands held up to prevent anyone else from getting close.

It was just now sinking in that Junkrat clearly didn’t have a clue what was going on, and that meant that Vishkar had nothing to do with his disappearance, and relief sank in all the way down to her bones. Satya let out a small, private sigh, and settled in to watch the theatrics as Junkrat furrowed his brows and gestured confusedly around.

“What the fuck is happenin’?” He exclaimed, and Morrison got in his face.

“That’s a good question!” He growled. “Where the hell have you been!?”

Junkrat immediately looked shifty, and didn’t respond immediately. “Mmm… nowhere.” He said finally, and a vein in Morrison’s temple throbbed.

“This is _serious_ , Junkrat.” He growled. “Vishkar is here-”

“Oh yeah, those fuckers.” Junkrat’s words were casual, and he frowned at everyone as he took in their tense postures. “…What’s goin’ on?” His expression shifted into something close to alarm. “They tryin’ somethin’?”

“They’re _trying_ to lure Satya down there.” Lúcio explained. “What did you see? Did they look shifty? What were they doing?”

Junkrat’s gaze widened a bit and he turned to face her, and Satya bit her lip slightly as he held her gaze for a moment. A flicker of emotion crossed his face but he fought it back and went for an airy grin that seemed strained at the edges as he turned back to face the others.

“Shit. Okay.” His voice had lowered in pitch, and he was very obviously taking things more seriously now. “Uh… I went down there lookin’ for… nuthin’ important.” He said hastily, then continued. “Saw ‘em in the lobby yeah, but it didn’t click they were Vishkar at first. Just looked like suits, y’know?”

“Junkrat.” Mercy interrupted suddenly. “Whose blood is that?”

Satya’s breath caught as she ran her gaze over his form, searching for this injury she hadn’t yet spotted, but frowned in confusion when Junkrat lifted his _metal_ hand, which had blood smeared across the knuckles, and giggled. Metal obviously couldn’t bleed, and he didn’t seem to be hurt… so whose blood was it?

“‘M gettin’ there.” He said with obvious relish.

“Well?” Morrison growled tersely. “What happened?”

“Oh, well, was just… y’know. Lookin’ around.” Junkrat’s tone was voice was _far_ too innocent, and Satya wondered just what he’d been up to down there. “One of them suit fuckers came over.”

A hollow gasp stuck in her throat and she stared at him. “Who?” She asked tightly, and Junkrat shrugged.

“Dunno, that bloke who talks t’ya all the time. Whatdija say his name was?”

“Sanjay.” She said grimly. “There _are_ others with him?”

“Yeah, a couple.” Junkrat ground his teeth, looking suddenly pissed off. “He _ruined_ it, that bastard, I was just about t-” He cut himself off abruptly. “Do nuthin’, that is. I wasn’t doin’ nuthin’.”

“Of course you weren’t.” Ana took over the conversation. “So Sanjay came over to you? What did he say?”

“Uh, somethin’ about wantin’ t’met the troops.” Junkrat rolled his eyes. “Told him I wasn’t a damn soldier an’ he got _real_ apologetic. Suits aren’t nice like that, _usually_. Kinda weird, t’be honest.”

“Was he buttering you up?” Pharah suggested. “Did he want something?”

“Yeah, fer me t’take him upstairs an’ introduce him t’everyone.”

Satya inhaled quietly – Sanjay would have used Junkrat to get inside?

“Well, what would be the _point_ of that?” Hanzo inquired sceptically. “This Sanjay isn’t a fighter, from what Satya has told me. He wouldn’t be able to _do_ anything.” The archer frowned. “Maybe we overreacted. Maybe he did just want to talk.”

“It’s possible.” Satya mused. “Sanjay has never been one for acting rashly. He’s not stupid. He doesn’t do anything he knows he can’t win.”

“Then why the weird phone call?” Genji argued. “Why travel out of his way to our hotel?”

“I think it’s a test.” Satya mused, and all eyes were on her, so she elaborated. “Put it this way. Never in my _life_ would I have hesitated to meet with a superior if they asked, nor would I use anything so trivial as a briefing from someone who isn’t even a part of Vishkar as an excuse, as I just did. They’re testing me. If I actually went down there and they did try to take me back to India, well, I dare say that’d be a bonus in their eyes. I think they’re here to find out if my loyalty has shifted. If it hadn’t, I’d be down there now.”

There was an ominous silence.

“So what does that _mean?”_ Asked Lúcio.

Satya bit her lip. “Well, I already knew that Sanjay knows that I know about Rio – and that is a convoluted sentence, if you ask me – so I dare say he’s here to test my loyalty and see if I would ignore what I’ve learnt. Obviously, I didn’t go down, so he is free to tell our superiors that I’m a liability. If he had managed to convince Junkrat to bring him here, I _think_ Sanjay would probably be probing, to see how much you all know, so Vishkar knows how much damage control they might need.”

Mei spoke up then. “That’s not good, but what I’m worried about is how did he even know we were here? Did you tell him?”

“I told him I was in Lijiang, but I didn’t mention the hotel. I _presume_ he’d be tracking my equipment.” Satya explained tightly.

Winston’s eyes shot wide. “ _Damn_.” He growled. “I can’t believe I forgot about that.”

“You know about this?” Morrison looked wary.

“It was part of the terms of my contract.” Satya frowned slightly. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I’m their employee, and I’d be going into hostile environments. Why wouldn’t they want to keep track of my location?”

“Well, maybe it was good then, but it isn’t now.” Mei looked about. “Not if you’re trying to leave them. Is there a way to disable it?”

“I’m not sure.” Satya lifted her hands helplessly. “I’ve never tried.”

“I’m sure we can figure something out.” Torbjörn interjected. “Once back we get back to Gibraltar and I’ve got my tools…” He looked at her and grinned. “What do you say? Two heads are better than one. Winston, too.”

Satya smiled at the engineer – they’d butted heads frequently over their methods of building during their first months, and now she was relieved to see the animosity was fading.

“Thank you. I’d appreciate the help.”

“Well, that’s something sorted out.” Mercy interrupted, hands on her hips. “Now I want to know; _whose blood is that?”_

All eyes turned back to Junkrat, who shrugged. “It’s not a secret or anythin’.” He said, sounding mostly chipper but a little defensive at the same time. “That suit had it comin’.”

Satya narrowed her eyes. “…Which ‘suit’? Not Sanjay?”

Junkrat wilted a little under her gaze. “I mighta.” He said shortly, and folded his arms. “In my defence, but, he was bein’ a cunt-”

“What did you _do?”_ Satya spoke over the top of him, eyes wide.

“How was I ‘sposed t’know his nose’d break so easy?” Junkrat protested.

“You broke his nose.” Satya closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her own nose. “You _broke_ my direct superior’s nose. You realise there will be repercussions, Junkrat.”

There was some alarmed murmuring at that, and Junkrat scowled. “He started it.” He muttered sullenly, metal fingers clenching.

“Why’d you punch him?” Lúcio wanted to know. “What did he say?”

“Well, told him I didn’t have a, whadaya call it, unlocky thingo.”

“Keycard.” Pharah supplied.

“Yeah, that thing.” Junkrat grinned. “Got a bit pissy at me then. Said I was lyin’. Wasn’t even lyin’ tho! Dunno where it is. Told him t’get fucked, he tried t’get in m’face an’ demand I take him upstairs.”

“And then?” Satya demanded.

Junkrat shrugged. “Told him t’fuck off again. One of the other blokes came over an’ whispered at him for a bit but he didn’t like that.”

“And?” Ana asked when Junkrat trailed off again.

“Got even pissier an’ said he knew I’m a Junker, like it wasn’t fuckin’ obvious, n’said he’d call the coppers, get me arrested if I didn’t take him. _That’s_ when I decked him.” Junkrat sounded like he relished it, and Satya’s lips compressed into a thin line. She of course knew there would be repercussions for this, and Junkrat shouldn’t have hit Sanjay, but from the sound of things, Sanjay was mostly to blame for this.

“I’ll ignore the fact you’ve lost your keycard for now and ask if they’re still down there.” Morrison growled. “They didn’t follow you upstairs?”

“Nah, that Sanjay’s a little bitch. Fell right the fuck over an’ started wailin’ like he’d been shot.” Junkrat rolled his eyes. “Broken nose’s nuthin’ t’cry about.”

“So the hotel is giving him first aid? Or was an ambulance called?” Mercy asked practically, but Junkrat shook his head.

“Nope. Other blokes there with him just kinda scooped him up an’ ran out the door. Ignored the receptionist shoutin’ ‘bout her first aid kit an’ everythin’.”

There was a brief silence as this was processed. Then – “I think we should get out of here.” Ana said grimly. “Right now. Before they or anyone else comes back.”

Winston nodded and adjusted his glassed. “Ana’s right. We _might_ be overreacting but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Lena, you got the ship fuelled up today, yes?”

Tracer nodded. “Yep, we’re ready t’go at any time. Got ‘er fully stocked.”

“Right.” Winston nodded around. “I’ll give us an hour tops to get everything together. Get dressed quickly, don’t bother with anything time consuming. Just throw your things into your bag and let’s get out of here.” Satya’s lips compressed at the thought of all her clothes, hung neatly and wrinkle free in her wardrobe. She’d just have to fold at warp speed, then. “I’ll have to speak to the receptionist, get her to forget what she saw.” Winston continued. “Hopefully it won’t take too long.”

They packed up as swiftly as they could (and surprised the receptionist when they checked out at one o’clock in the morning) and by two o’clock they were in the air, preparing to leave Chinese airspace. Satya settled into her seat with a quiet sigh, and closed her eyes. Tonight had been hectic and she didn’t know which emotion to feel first – she was numb to it all but she was _safe,_ and all she wanted was the oblivion that came with sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter got rewritten a bunch of times (this is the 4th draft, yay me) and honestly I'm not ultra happy with it but I also don't know what else I want to get out of it so??? enjoy, I guess
> 
> I've been redoing chapter orders and trimming tf out of my future plot (not that I want to but it is. getting too long. just too long) so this chapter was actually supposed to be three (3!!!) chapters but I condensed it which made things difficult bc of the way I alternate povs for each chapter (this seemed like a good idea when I started writing, but its a pain in the arse when I really want a particular chapter to be in a particular pov, but it winds up having two jamie povs in a row, which is Against The Law), so I hope it works! once we get to ch 58 at the latest, things should be smoother anyway lmao and thats why this took A While to write
> 
> also I used up my entire backlog bc I got excited and posted the christmas chapters WAY too fast and do you ever have regrets? because now I actually have to write each new chapter as I go along and honestly writing? what is that
> 
> also also, if you're curious as to what Junkrat was doing in the lobby, that will be revealed in the next chapter~


	57. King's Row Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Junkrat goes back to London (unintentionally)

The atmosphere on the dropship was strange. Some, like Lúcio, were congratulating him on decking Sanjay. Some, like Winston, were tensely considering the repercussions. Some, like 76, were straight up being a bastard about it. Well, Junkrat didn’t give a fuck. That cunt threatened to call the cops on his arse. Breaking his nose was, whadaya call it. Self-preservation. Junkrat was reasonably certain it’d stand up in court. The fact was, none of the rest of these buggers knew how to properly react when threatened. Anyone with half a brain knew punching their lights out before scarpering was the only way to go.

He couldn’t stop sneaking peeks at Satya. He hadn’t made the connection until he’d gotten back to the hotel room, but the knowledge that that bastard might have been there to try and abduct her made his blood boil, and Junkrat now wished he’d hit the man significantly harder than he had. At any rate, Satya was safe and they were gonna be out of China’s airspace soon. Or had they already left it? He had no idea. Felt like they’d been travelling for ages but he was tired and it was the middle of the night and he didn’t think he could be blamed for not paying attention. Satya had been on the phone almost the entire time – he didn’t know what she was saying because she wasn’t speaking in English, but she seemed sick of it all and frustration often crossed her features. He felt guilty for that – he knew she would be put through the wringer because a member of Overwatch had just decked a Vishkar employee, but he hoped the fact that he and Hog were hired guns rather than official members helped smooth things over a little.

Not long after they’d taken off, Winston had set up a floating monitor which they’d all watched in silence as the security footage he’d gotten Athena to steal from the hotel before they’d left played. Junkrat had done his level best to stay quiet but he hadn’t been able to contain his glee at being vindicated because he was right – the footage clearly showed him minding his own business as he stalked a fat man and his fatter wallet through the lobby, only to be accosted by Sanjay herding him into a corner. Even without sound, it was easy to see him being dismissive of the suit’s request and trying to leave twice, before Sanjay grabbed his arm (this was when he’d threatened to call the coppers) and Junkrat had knocked him on his arse, and Junkrat had been enormously satisfied to see that the camera had been close enough to get a high def view of his fist connecting with Sanjay’s face, and the crack of his nose and the spurt of blood over Junkrat’s knuckles. He’d asked Winston if he could keep the footage and 76 had damn near had a coronary. The footage had then showed Sanjay’s associates beetling over to collect their bleeding cohort and take him away while the receptionist and other guests floundered about, and Junkrat had watched his smaller on-screen self flee into a much despised elevator, at which point the video cut off.

Junkrat had basked in self-congratulation as Morrison grudgingly admitted that yes, it was possible Sanjay had instigated it, and now they were waiting for Satya to finish with her call to see if Vishkar planned to take it further. Satya was on the case; that meant he didn’t have to be too worried. Well, he was pretty sure, at least.

Junkrat had intended to keep playing with his bombs – he had to finish up his bomb for 76. He knew the others were a bit creeped out by it but he didn’t think it was anything bad – it was something he’d done plenty of times. Effigies were fun, and they were a decent substitute if he was in a position where he couldn’t blow up the real thing. Instead, he found himself sitting huddled with Lúcio and Hana, the former of whom wanted to know every detail of how it felt to sock a Vishkar suit in the face, while Hana listened, eyes wide. She had previously kept a sort of neutral stance on Vishkar – she listened to Lúcio’s tales of Vishkar’s shitbaggery in Rio, of course, but she also counted Satya as a friend and hadn’t wanted to believe that she could be involved with something like that. Now that Vishkar’s deception and manipulation of Satya had been revealed, however, Hana had immediately leapt onto the ‘I hate Vishkar’ train and now enthusiastically abused the corporation alongside Lúcio.

Lúcio turned his attention to Satya then, making Junkrat and Hana follow suit, and he realised Lúcio was looking because Satya had finally hung up from her lengthy phone call, and had her eyes closed, massaging her temples with a frustrated look on her face.

“What did they say?” Ana asked from her seat beside Satya, and Junkrat listened, a twinge of guilt twisting his insides at Satya’s tired expression.

“They want Junkrat and Roadhog to be kicked out of Overwatch.” She said brusquely, and Junkrat’s jaw dropped.

“Hog too?” He asked indignantly. “He didn’t do anythin’!”

“Guilty by association.” Satya shrugged one shoulder. “They’ve never liked having Junkers on the team.”

Junkrat scowled and Lúcio spoke up. “They can’t do anything, can they? How much leverage do they have?”

Winston adjusted his glasses. “Quite a bit, unfortunately. Vishkar hasn’t really demanded anything of us yet, but, they provide nearly eighty-five percent of our funding. They could threaten to stop the funding and if they did that, well, we’d be stuck in limbo.”

“Fuck.” Junkrat mumbled under his breath. “That it then?” He glared balefully around and jerked his head towards Roadhog. “Time for us t’go?” There was a pause and he felt horribly nervous – he didn’t want to leave, and tried to cover it up with bravado. “‘S fine. Never expected this t’be permanent.”

“Now, don’t be too hasty, Junkrat.” Winston said quickly. “You’re both valuable members of the team. Surely we can work something out.”

“Of course we can.” Satya said suddenly. “The security tape. Winston, can you send me that footage? It shows Sanjay is the instigator. With a bit of luck, I can embarrass my superiors enough that they won’t demand the Junkers leave.”

“Of course.” Winston pulled out his tablet and started tapping away, and Junkrat felt nothing but relief. He met Satya’s eyes and she gave him a warm, encouraging smile before she turned back to her tablet, phone in hand, and Junkrat glowed inside. He knew there was a reason he liked her.

He watched Satya as she crossed to sit beside Winston, looking over his tablet as she dialled some unknown number, as did most of the other people in the ship – he burned to know what she was saying, but it wasn’t in English, dammit. She looked so professional like this – back straight and expression cool, calm and detached. She frequently spoke in English but it was only to murmur softly to Winston, who soon ended up on the phone himself, and Junkrat couldn’t hear what they were saying, which was pissing him off big time. He liked watching her, though. Whenever she was in her corporate headspace like this, she looked like she had when he’d first met her – imposing and scary and almost regal in her business-like manner. He quietly mumbled things to Lúcio and Hana from time to time, when Satya’s brow creased or she frowned, or otherwise looked anything less than positive.

Finally, she hung up, her lips pressed together in a thoughtful look.

“Well?” Junkrat demanded before he could stop himself, and Satya gave him a sharp look and crossed her legs before replying.

“They’ve admitted Sanjay was the instigator. He’ll be reprimanded, and he certainly isn’t happy.” Satya flashed a pleased look at Winston. “Happily, Winston took the blame for sending in the footage, so Sanjay won’t think I, ah, _snitched_.” The word was obviously unfamiliar on her tongue, and Junkrat grinned.

“So that’s it? Nuthin’ t’worry about?”

“Well, my superiors would like for you to be reprimanded, as I’m sure they mentioned, Winston?” Satya accompanied this with an arch of her brows, and Winston nodded.

“Yes, and I’ve marked you down for disciplinary action, Junkrat.”

Junkrat immediately disregarded that – he’d been on disciplinary action before, most recently when he slipped a smoke bomb into Zenyatta’s orbit. That’d been before Nepal and before the fight with Genji, so Junkrat wasn’t sure if he’d try that one again. Maybe when Hoggie was close by, but only then. Overwatch’s version of discipline was kiddie play compared to the wringer the Queen had put him through at times, so he wasn’t particularly perturbed by Winston’s words.

“Well, that’s that then, ay?” He said cheerily, leaning back with his hands behind his head. “She’s all good.”

“Mm.” Satya’s eyes narrowed a fraction as she beheld him, and Junkrat kept up his cocky grin. God, he loved it when she looked at him like that. “We shall see.”

That sounded vaguely ominous, but before he could comment, Tracer came into the main hold, having evidently left the ship on autopilot. She looked rather strange – her cheeks were pale and her mouth was tightly compressed. She looked worried.

“Lena?” Winston looked up at her with a furrowed brow. “Is everything all right?” At his words, a stir of unease travelled around the dropship, a slight ripple of movement following as people reached for their weapons.

“Um, no.” Tracer dragged her gaze away from the phone in her hand. “It’s Emily. There’s been more rioting in London an’ she’s scared. It’s gettin’ real close t’the flat.”

“Rioting?” Mercy was on her feet in an instant. “Omnic or human?”

“Both.” Tracer shrugged somewhat helplessly. “They’re clashin’ in the streets now, she says. Blowin’ up cars. Look, I gotta get over there. Dunno if you guys wanna come, but-”

“What kinda stupid ass fools d’ya think we are?” McCree stood up as well. “‘Course we’ll go.” He turned to raise a brow at Winston. “We will, won’t we?”

“Of course.” Winston said firmly. “We won’t let anything happen to Emily. We just need to sort out an airport, and… I don’t know, I don’t think the English government will be happy to see us.” He grinned at McCree in particular, which Junkrat didn’t get. “They never seem to be.”

Come to think of it, Junkrat didn’t think the English would be too pleased to see him either, but he refrained from saying so as McCree chortled to himself and Tracer put on a brave smile.

“Thanks guys.” She said earnestly. “Set course for London, then?”

“Full steam ahead.” Winston followed Tracer into the cockpit, and excited yet tense conversation broke out as they felt the dropship divert its path.

“Omnics, fuck yeah!” Junkrat did a celebratory wiggle. “Gonna blow ‘em up!”

Hana snickered slightly. “I dunno, Rat. Winston made it sound like we’d be going incognito. No bombs for you!”

Junkrat pouted comically. “That’s no fun.”

Lúcio and Hana began to rib him playfully, teasing him about his explosives and having great fun until Tracer announced over the loudspeaker that they’d been given permission to land and would soon be descending on the airport – Junkrat immediately set about double checking his weapons and making sure he had enough. He was running low on stock, for he hadn’t yet been back to Gibraltar and back to the workshop to be able to restock properly, nor did he have any RIPtires left. He counted his supplies – he was sure he had enough to get him through some riots, but made a mental note to stick close to Roadhog, just in case. He’d run out of explosives before and it was never a fun experience. Winston had given them the details after speaking to both Tracer and Emily in the cockpit – they were going to scout down the streets, keeping an eye on the protests and Emily’s flat, and if people were getting too violent, they were to break up fights.

Junkrat wasn’t allowed to kill omnics, and he was pissed off about that – Roadhog was too, but he seemed to be able to hide it better. In any case, Roadhog had always been much better at listening to others, and so Junkrat was fairly sure no matter how much Roadie was itching to hook some bots, he’d refrain, and stop Junkrat from doing anything as well. Junkrat found himself privately hoping the rioting omnics would get violent, because that was his excuse to have a little fun.

They bribed the airport staff and took a minibus – it was so late at night the buses were mostly at rest. Tracer gunned it, foot to the floor as they raced towards the city, and soon reached the borough where Emily and Tracer’s flat was. Getting in there easily was another story, however. Blockades and wrecked vehicles prevented them getting through the streets, as did the hordes of protesters, both human and omnic. Tracer parked the minibus as close as she could get and then she was gone, zipping through the streets at a rate of knots.

“Listen up, everyone!” 76 boomed. “We’re not fighting, we’re _breaking up_ the fight. Winston and I are going to Lena’s flat to make sure Emily is unharmed, and I want the rest of you out on the streets, preventing as much violence as you can.”

With that, they all piled out of the minibus, partnered up, picked a street, and set off. Junkrat at first had an exciting time –the crowds roared and clashed, there was fire and debris being hurled through the air, as well as Molotov cocktails, and Junkrat was in his element. Then, it began to sink in that he wasn’t allowed to hurl Molotovs along with them, and he began to feel bored. He and Roadie got in between a few human-omnic confrontations, which was depressing when the omnics wandered off, unharmed, and then a more pressing issue presented itself to them – there were coppers absolutely everywhere.

Considering that the last time they had been in London, they’d been chased out of London for stealing the crown jewels, Junkrat and Roadhog decided staying out of sight would be prudent, so they got up off the streets and roof hopped instead, staying in the cover of the shadows and never revealing themselves, if they could help it. At one stage, Junkrat found old wanted posters of both him and Roadhog, and he’d become absurdly excited over them – he’d carefully taken them down and tucked them into his satchel for safekeeping.

At that moment, a crackle happened in his ear, and Junkrat lifted a hand to his comm.

“He’s here!” McCree sounded equal parts shocked and horrified, and was panting heavily. “He’s here, it’s Reaper, he’s here, y’all!” There came a noise of impact and a winded grunt, like McCree had been punched hard, and then silence. Junkrat turned to Roadhog in shock as the others immediately began calling McCree over the comms, trying to re-establish contact.

“Fuck.” Junkrat murmured.

“Time t’be careful.” Rumbled Hoggie softly, and Junkrat nodded. They crept along through the shadows, watching the streets cautiously. They saw a group of people shouting their heads off at a lone omnic, who was backing away, hands in the air, looking scared.

Roadhog rumbled a deep sigh and began to swing his hook. Junkrat watched uncomprehendingly until the hook went sailing through the air and snatched the omnic off the street by its waist, stealing it from right under the nose of the humans advancing on it menacingly. It was a humanoid looking thing, like Zenyatta, and it hit the roof beside them with a metallic _crunch_.

“Hog.” Junkrat inquired diffidently. “The fuck are y’doin’?”

Roadhog’s only answer was a long-suffering sigh. The omnic popped to its feet with its hands raised in a wildly defensive move, like it didn’t know what the hell it was doing, and Junkrat aimed his frag launcher squarely at its face.

“Don’t hurt me!” The bot squeaked. “Please! I’m defenceless! I just want to go home!”

The omnic held its hands up, and then Junkrat ground his teeth in annoyance and took his finger off the trigger. He knew what Roadie was doing – he was trying to do what Overwatch would want them to do. Well, he supposed he’d go along with it, but he wasn’t happy about it.

 “Look.” He said brusquely. “Don’t like bots but we’re ‘sposed t’be cleanin’ this mess up. Get fuckin’ goin’ an’ stay off the streets.”

The bot nodded rapidly. “Thank you, thank you.” It said hurriedly, then scampered away, climbing awkwardly onto a fire escape and clambering into the darkness, with a final look back at them.

“Hmph.” Junkrat said once the omnic was out of sight. “What the hell didja do that for?”

Roadhog shrugged. “If one of the others saw us doin’ nuthin’, we’d never hear the fuckin’ end of it.”

Junkrat nodded. “Eh, I _guess_. Don’t like it, but.”

“D’ya think I do? Dumb fuck.”

They crept along rooftops for nearly half an hour and monitored the riots, as well as occasionally checking in with the others. McCree had gotten away from Reaper, and the latter’s whereabouts were currently unknown, so they were all incredibly wary. Watching the riots, Junkrat occasionally threw flashbangs and smokebombs to break up fights. These worked well, and sent both humans and omnics alike fleeing in terror. He pulled his face back in over the edge of the building after watching a smoke bomb detonate, and turned around to find Hog standing on the other side of the roof.

Junkrat immediately started to walk over, opening his mouth to ask what Hoggie was doing, when the larger Junker gave him the signal that meant ‘shut the fuck up and do it now’. Junkrat shut his gob and entered stealth mode, thinking that there were probably police in close proximity. He crept across the roof, thankful for the noise of the riots which helped disguise the sound of his metal leg on the rooftop, and reached Roadie’s side to peer cautiously over the side of the roof. What he saw made his jaw drop and his eyes pop wide, and Roadie gave him the signal for, ‘be ready’.

Junkrat quietly checked his grenades and loaded his frag launcher, all the while keeping his eyes on the shadowy being that had Mercy cornered, her back against the wall. She was trying to reason with the Reaper, and by all accounts, it wasn’t going well.

“Gabriel, please.” She begged, clutching her staff tightly. One of the wings on her suit had clearly been shattered and it was barely attached to her suit anymore, dragging on the ground and twitching feebly with her movements. She couldn’t fly up onto the roof to escape, and if she tried to run, Reaper would follow. She was trapped.

 _Not for long_ , Junkrat thought grimly, as he and Roadhog got into positions that would enable them to throw themselves off the roof and land in between her and the creep.

“’Gabriel, _please’_.” Reaper mimicked her in a high-pitched, mocking tone. “Who’s Gabriel?”

“You are.” Mercy sounded close to tears. “Gabe, I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen, please-”

“Oh, you didn’t?” Reaper dissolved into smoke and reformed a few steps closer. “You didn’t mean it?” He snarled, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You still did this to me! Do you even realise what you’ve done? The agony you’ve caused me?”

Mercy started to cry. “I was trying to save your life! I didn’t know what the side effects would be-”

“Then you shouldn’t have done it!” He roared. “You should have left me to die.” He very slowly let his two shotguns drop to the ground with an ominous clatter, and took a slow step forward. “I’ve been waiting for this.” He growled, flexing his talons. “You’ve been hard to track down, Angela.” Reaper seemed to reconsider. “Or rather, I’ve known where you were, but… you were never alone. I meant to save you till last, once. Now… I think you will make a nice… example.”

Mercy pointed her pistol at his face. “Gabriel, don’t.”

“Don’t call me that.” He growled. “That’s not my name anymore. You took it from me, Angela.”

“Gabe, it was an accident.” She was openly crying, tears pouring down her face, and her pistol wavered in the air. Reaper took another threatening step forwards, and Roadie decided that was quite close enough. At the signal, Junkrat threw himself off the edge of the building, and they both landed in front of Mercy.

“Aight, time t’fuck off.” Junkrat said cheerfully, pointing his frag launcher in Reaper’s face. Behind them, Mercy gasped, and Roadhog used his hand to hustle her directly behind him, out of sight, his scrap gun pointed unwaveringly at Reaper.

Reaper just laughed a slow, menacing laugh. “Ah, the _mercenaries_.” His voice was mocking. “You just earned yourself a spot on the list.”

What list…? Junkrat frowned – this motherfucker was off his rocker.

“Whatever, mate.” He said loudly. “Gotcha outnumbered, an’ out-weaponed t’boot. Give yerself up or fuck off.”

Reaper continued that slightly unnerving chuckle, then spread his arms wide. “Have at it then.” He snarled. “But _you_ won’t. This alley is too small for bombs. You’ll bring the place down on your own head.”

Junkrat’s lip curled – the fucker knew about explosives then, and had called his bluff. The worst part was, he was right. The alley was too small. He’d bring brick down on their heads if he tried to set anything off here. He might get away with a smaller grenade but in this confined area… it’d be dangerous. Unluckily for Reaper, he wasn’t the only one who was armed. Roadhog took over then, and without preamble fired his scrap gun in a continuous, deafening blast. The first pieces of scrap hit Reaper and he doubled over, but then his body seemed to ooze and the pieces just… fell to the ground, and then he dissolved into smoke and the pieces flew right through him.

Roadhog stopped firing when the futility of it became apparent, and Reaper reformed with an agonised groan, and rolled his head to the side. “That… hurt…” He rasped, but Junkrat felt a sinking feeling develop in his stomach. Hog’s scrap could easily kill a man, or at the very least, mortally wound him, and yet, Reaper had taken a direct blast, and seemed mostly unharmed. Junkrat tensed, and began to wonder how they were going to get out of this one.

Reaper scooped up his shotguns and aimed them squarely, one each, at both Junkers. Junkrat stared down the barrel of his shotgun and panicked – he wasn’t gonna leave Mercy and neither was Hog but fuck, they weren’t gonna survive a direct shot the way Reaper had.

Reaper chuckled, his thoughts apparently heading down the same track. “Let’s see you do that.” He rasped, and Junkrat tensed, ready to feel bullets tearing through flesh and muscle.

“Sorry, Merc.” He mumbled under his breath, and looked up at Hog. The two shared a glance and that was their goodbye, and Reaper’s fingers tightened on the trigger. Junkrat shut his eyes, thoughts whirling madly. Maybe Mercy could get away while he and Roadie carked it, or maybe – the shotguns fired and he flinched, then registered nothing. No pain. He cracked one eye open cautiously, in case he’d been shot and was so close to death he wasn’t registering pain, and was met with a swathe of brilliant, shimmering blue spread across the alleyway, which had taken the bullets for them.

“What…?” Reaper roared, throwing the shotguns to the ground and pulling a new pair from his holster as Satya dropped to the ground in front of them. She splayed her hand and pressed a little glowing globule of hard light into her photon projector, which she had running, firing a continuous stream into her shield to strengthen it, mending the cracks caused from the bullets.

“I thought you could use a hand.” She said, and Junkrat could have kissed her right then and there.

“Just fuckin’ saved our arses, that’s f’sure.” He said in relief, and she chuckled as Reaper fired again. Satya grunted with the effort of keeping them shielded as bullets sprayed the shield, and then Reaper dropped the guns, let loose a snarl of frustration and dissolved into smoke. With a squeak of alarm, Satya hurled her hand straight up, extending the shield over their heads as the smoke came bearing down on them, and bounced off it. Satya kept going, and abruptly Junkrat found himself encased in a giant hamster ball, staring up at the ceiling as Reaper bounced off it again and again, looking like the death eaters from _Harry Potter._

Thankful for their momentary reprieve, Satya turned to face them.

“Well.” She said simply, and Mercy wiggled her way past the two Junkers to give them all tear filled, grateful looks.

“You’ve saved my life.” She said, wiping her nose. “I thought I was going-”

“Ain’t saved it yet.” Hog interjected curtly. “We’re trapped.”

Reaper had stopped the smoke attacks and was standing in front of them again, and Junkrat realised with a sinking feeling that Roadie was right. Maybe Reaper couldn’t get through the shield, but surely he would wait until Satya had no choice but to lower it.

He managed a nervous giggle. “Pity we don’t have a fan or somethin’.” He giggled. “Could just blow him away.”

Satya turned to him with wide eyes. “Junkrat.” She said almost wonderingly. “You’re a _genius_.”

He blinked. “I am? I mean, of course I am. Yeah.”

Satya give him a private sort of smile that made him glow on the inside as she moved to the front of the hamster ball, hitched her photon projector to her waist, and began to move her arms in rhythmic patterns. Outside their bubble, a giant wireframe appeared, just small enough to fit within the alleyway. Reaper looked up at it, and took a step back, and then another, when the blades started to spin. Junkrat could hear the noise it made, the loud, ominous whirring sound mingled with the crunch of brick and cement crumbling when Satya misjudged and the edges of the giant fan nicked the ground or walls. She moved her arms faster and faster, the glow in the palm of her hand pronounced and vivid as the giant blades became a blur, and then she pushed out and the fan shot down the alley and sucked Reaper right into it. The black smoke was entangled firmly in the fan blades with a tortured shriek and as he was carried away, Satya dropped the shield.

“Run!”

The four of them sprinted away, with Satya in the lead and Roadie huffing Hogdrogen as he went. Fearful of pursuit, Junkrat had an idea.

“We gotta get up to the roof!” He panted, and pulled two concussion mines from his satchel. He tossed one to Hog, who nodded and yanked Mercy into his arms before throwing his mine down and leaping on it. Junkrat turned to Satya and she stepped towards him and he pulled her into his side, arms tight around her waist as he jumped on the mine. It exploded under their feet with an enormous bang and Satya flung her arms around his neck and held on tight as they were launched high into the air. Junkrat let out a high-pitched giggle and aimed for the roof, where Roadhog and Mercy had just landed. He hit the ground with a _crunch_ and lost his balance completely, since he was dealing with an entire extra person besides his own body.

He and Satya both went arse over head but it felt like he’d barely hit the ground before large hands had closed over his harness and the back of her suit and hoisted them to their feet. Junkrat shot a grin at Hog and a cursory glance at Satya and Mercy to make sure they were unharmed, and then Satya ran lightly over to the back of the building.

“Come on.” She called softly. “We need to get further away.”

Junkrat sure as shit wasn’t going to argue, so they followed Satya as she crafted a bridge across the gap to reach the next roof. Instead of blue, which would be eye catching, she made this one utterly transparent, so to be hidden from anyone below.

“Mm, _fuck_.” Junkrat had never felt so uneasily in his life, walking on a completely transparent surface – it didn’t even have the slight distortion that glass walkways at tourist spots did. It was just like walking on thin air, and if he walked too far to the left or right, he’d fall. Roadhog marched across with his nose in the air, eyes carefully on a marker to ensure he walked straight, while Mercy nervously followed him, keeping to his path. Junkrat scurried after them both and got distracted midway across, and so got lost, unable to tell where he was supposed to put his feet. Satya rolled her eyes at him, which made him feel stupid, but then she lightly ran back across the transparent bridge, took his hand and led him back to the safety of the solidly visible rooftop, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted to kiss more, solid ground or the woman in front of him.

Satya dropped his hand and he flexed his fingers, tucking them into his pocket for a moment as she disabled the bridge and made a new one on the opposite side. It was slow progress, but they made it a fair distance away without any sign of Reaper, so at last they huddled in the shadow of a small maintenance building to recover their stamina and assess what had happened. Mercy was fussing over Roadhog, who had pulled out more Hogdrogen to recuperate with, while Satya got on the comms to update everyone else of their position and what had happened. London’s riot police were out in force and the protesting was dying down, and considering the fact that Reaper seemed to be there specifically to target Overwatch, Winston made the decision to evacuate. This wasn’t an ordinary, well planned mission, so they didn’t really have a safe evac zone, other than the general order to make it back to the minibus they’d arrived in, and travel back to the airport.

They stayed there for a few minutes longer, recuperating and working through what had happened.

“So where’d y’come from anyway?” Junkrat wanted to know, and Satya shrugged one shoulder.

“I heard Roadhog’s gun. Either you’d gotten into a fight with protestors, which you weren’t supposed to do, or you needed help. I came to investigate.”

“Got there in the nick of time.” Junkrat grinned at her, and she nodded, lips curving slightly.

“I’d say so, yes.” She turned to Mercy then. “Are you okay, Angela? He didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” Mercy said quietly, still looking shell-shocked. “Thanks to these two. I’m not sure what would have happened if they hadn’t come along when they did.”

“Very good timing.” Satya agreed. “So what were _you_ doing there?” She asked with a raise of her brows, and Junkrat shrugged.

“Hoggie heard somethin’, I dunno. I didn’t hear anythin’.”

“Heard y’scream.” Roadie rasped to Mercy, who nodded and touched a hand to her ruined wing.

“That would have been when he shot my wing. I was trying to get away.” She bit her lower lip, eyes glistening. “I can’t believe Gabe would do that. He – he was my friend.”

Satya pulled her into a hug and Junkrat met Roadhog’s gaze over the top of the two women’s embrace, waiting for them to pull away. When they did, Mercy sniffled hard and wiped under her eyes, so Roadie offered her a handkerchief, which she took gratefully and used to wipe her tears. When Mercy was feeling more composed, they got up and prepared to head to the evac point, and started hurrying when they registered the thunder rippling through the sky. No one wanted to be caught in the rain.

It was bloody lucky, actually, that Satya and Mercy were there, because they took care of the map situation and finding out where they actually were, as well as figuring out a route to get back to the minibus quickly. While he and Hog could have figured it out, it was nice having someone else take the lead, particularly as they had to follow Satya anyway, as she was making the bridges. They had nearly reached the minibus when there was a crack of thunder, and it started raining. That certainly didn’t help his mood – Junkrat was getting damper and more pissed off by the minute as they hurried along. It wasn’t overly heavy, but it was that misty shit that didn’t _seem_ like it was raining – but you ended up soaked anyway, and by the time they reached the minibus, soot was running in rivulets down his face and over his skin, into his clothes. His harness was chafing from the moisture and what made it worse was that Satya and Mercy were perfectly dry. Satya was holding her hand over her head, a shining blue shield extended over their heads to keep the rain off. She had offered to make one for them too, but Roadie had declined, much to Junkrat’s fury – the big Junker liked to feel rain that wasn’t acidic and awful, just as much as he took advantage of the rain to make Junkrat somewhat cleaner than he had been.

Junkrat wiped his hand furiously across his face, water dripping through his hair and into his eyes and he _loathed_ it – how could anyone enjoy rain? Well, he liked rain, because it gave you fresh water to drink and got things to grow, but he despised the feel of it on his body. They reached the minibus and Junkrat clambered on board as soon as physically able, plopping down on a seat and closing his eyes briefly, relishing the feeling of not being rained on. He opened his eyes and noticed he was leaving sooty, watery smudges everywhere, and giggled briefly at the thought, as Satya sat in the seat directly in front of him. Mercy was up front telling Winston what had happened with Reaper, while 76 and McCree stood outside on guard, waiting for everyone who hadn’t arrived yet. Tracer arrived not long after, her girlfriend in tow. He didn’t know what Emily was doing, coming with them, so Junkrat made a sleepy mental note to ask Hoggie later. Thankfully, after tangling with McCree and Mercy, Reaper seemed to have vanished, and intense discussion abounded after everyone found out Satya had sucked him into a hard light fan. They were still on high alert despite the exhaustion –no one had had any sleep in nearly twenty-four hours, and they were all ready for sleep. Now that the excitement of the riots and seeing Reaper had died down, Junkrat, who hadn’t slept well in the last few days, was running on empty. He did the math just for funsies, and finally figured out that in the last forty-eight hours, he’d had probably only three hours of sleep. He’d managed to distract himself decently well up until now, but soggy and disgruntled yet safe and with the calming patter of rain on the roof, he stripped out of his harness, snuggled into his seat, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok SO i know this chapter is a little short and concluded fairly abruptly but like, I did consider turning King's Row into a three chapter arc but then I decided that if I do that things will get dragged out stupidly and really, this chapter is more of a bridge between plot points so... idk
> 
> I am hyped for the next chapter though, which is way more fun~


	58. Raincheck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain interrupts their plans, so Jamie finds himself invited to Satya's room~

Satya sat curled into her chair, her tablet in her hands and a frown etched between her brows. She was in her room and had been waiting for Junkrat to arrive, when her email had dinged and alerted her to a new message. It was from Lúcio, detailing the cemented version of the plan and wanting to know if it was alright to confirm it with Winston, so they could put the plan into action and begin creating templates for her new arm. She chewed on her lower lip slightly as she read through the message, wanting to reply right away, but nerves in her belly told her not to.

It had been pandemonium in London, and she’d been relieved to get back to the soothing quiet of the base, if a little guilty and worried about leaving the riots before they’d been put down. Still, Reaper was dangerous, and getting into a situation where he could stalk and pick them off one by one certainly wasn’t smart – she didn’t blame Winston in the slightest for calling an evacuation, and he and Morrison had spent the last three days holed up in the lab, trying to plot Reaper’s whereabouts.

Junkrat, Roadhog, Mercy, McCree and herself had been summoned and questioned, and Morrison had taken notes like a madman, trying to figure out what Reaper was doing in London, if he had known they were coming, why he had targeted Mercy like that (causing Mercy to get quite upset from the recollections), and the most worrying thing – the comment he had made to Junkrat and Roadhog, about putting them ‘on the list’. Morrison was sure Reaper intended to pick off Overwatch agents – just as he was sure that Reaper would put _her_ on the list for her actions against him. Satya hated the thought – first Vishkar, and now Reaper? Things were bound to be even more unpleasant and she certainly wasn’t looking forward to it.

As for Emily, the (main) reason they’d gone to King’s Row in the first place, she was still at the base, spending much of her time with Tracer, because Tracer was _very_ reluctant to take her back to London in case more riots broke out – the situation was still very tense and volatile. Satya was pleased to have Emily there – she was an architecture student, and she’d brought some of her work with her. Yesterday evening, Satya had been passing the rec room when Ana called out to her, and she’d gone in to find Emily sitting on the sofa, buried up to her eyeballs in an assignment that was still due, riots or not. Satya had then had a wonderful time, sitting there with the English girl for several hours as she helped Emily with her assignment.

A soft buzz sounded then, alerting her to someone’s presence at her door, and Junkrat’s voice came through the intercom. “G’day.” He called. “I’m here.”

Satya got up immediately and pressed the button to open the door, hustling him into her room as quickly as possible, in case anyone came along and spotted them together. It wasn’t until the door had slid shut behind him that she looked up and properly registered his appearance.

“You’re _filthy_.” She exclaimed in horror, and Junkrat’s grin slipped.

“What?” He looked down at his hands and his brows shot into his hairline. “Oh, shit, whoops.”

Satya flapped her hands at him, propelling him backwards. “Off the carpet!” She said urgently. “You’re _dripping_.” That was true – small puffs of soot drifted from his clothes when he moved, and he still had dried streak marks on his face and chest from the rain in London – obviously, he had neglected to bathe once they’d returned, which meant he hadn’t showered in three days at the very least.

Satya’s lip curled.

“Didn’t I _say_ a certain standard of cleanliness was required when I agreed to keep teaching you? Didn’t you _agree_ to those standards?” Her voice had dropped ominously, and if she wasn’t so irritated at the soot on her clean carpet she’d have laughed at the genuine terror in his face.

“‘M sorry, Sat.” He said earnestly, his voice anxious. “I forgot. Honest.”

“Hm.” Satya narrowed her eyes at him, and he moved hurriedly towards the sink.

“I’ll wash up quick.” He tossed over his shoulder, and Satya’s eyes narrowed further.

“You certainly will.” She muttered under her breath, and strode back into her room. Satya rifled through her wardrobe for a clean towel, face washer and a new cake of soap, and these she folded neatly and placed on the bathroom cabinet. Junkrat eyed them in confusion, and when he lifted his gaze to her, Satya turned to look at the shower. He followed her gaze, and then his eyes snapped back to hers, looking wide and uncertain. He giggled slightly. “Y’not serious-”

“Jamison.” Satya interrupted. “If you don’t shower _right this instant_ , you don’t walk on my carpet. If you don’t walk on my carpet, you don’t leave. If you don’t leave, you will remain trapped in my bathroom forever, and you can forget having a reading lesson.”

He giggled again. “Seems excessive-”

“You are dripping dirt all over my carpet.” Satya said severely. “‘Excessive’ doesn’t begin to cover it.”

She stepped back and yanked the bathroom door firmly closed, and went to sit down in her chair again. It occurred to her at that moment that in order to shower, Junkrat would have to strip off. He’d be naked, and all of that intriguing muscle on display was separated from her only by a door. Satya bit her lip slightly as she pictured it, what his body would look like once those shorts slid down his thighs. She wondered briefly if he was clean shaven, and decidedly he probably wouldn’t be. He only shaved his face to prevent a bothersome, itchy beard, so she doubted he did much in the way of excessive maintenance downstairs. Heat flooded her cheeks and Satya started at the email from Lúcio without even seeing it, so intrigued was she by the mental image of the man in her mind’s eye.

Her bathroom door opened abruptly and Satya jerked her head up to find Junkrat leaning against the doorjamb. He’d taken everything off except for his shorts, which now sat dangerously low on his hips without his belt to control them, and Satya bit her lip as she noticed the trail of blond hair leading down between the chiselled ‘v’ there, and jerked her gaze back up to his eyes, and frowned at his expression. His grin was lazy and complacent, the hint of a golden tooth on display, and in it she could see a man who knew he was being looked at, and enjoyed it.

“Did you need something?” Satya congratulated herself on the steadiness of her tone, until Junkrat shifted his weight and his shorts slid down another dangerous inch, and her breath caught.

“Yeah, actually.” Junkrat jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Y’got no seat in there. I gotta take m’leg off t’shower but I can’t without somethin’ t’sit on.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Guess I could sit on the floor but it’s hard t’get up, y’know? Slippery when y’only got one leg.”

Satya shot to her feet. “I’m sorry.” She said, her tone a little forced. “I didn’t think of that.” She made her way towards him, expecting him to step backwards into the bathroom, but he didn’t, and stayed right where he was, leaning against the doorjamb. He had his good hand resting on the doorframe above his head, and his metal fingers slipped into his belt loop, tugging his shorts down further and catching her eye as more of the blond trail leading downwards was revealed. Satya lifted her gaze hurriedly and scowled inside as the corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. He was _much_ too close and Gods, his chest was exposed and covered in soot that she itched to wipe away and Satya licked her lips because he looked too delicious for words and she could smell him – mint from his shaving cream, smoke, rain and a scent that was all male and _utterly_ intoxicating. Noting the way his smile slipped and his gaze darkened as it fastened on her mouth, she slowed the movement down, letting her tongue sweep slowly over her lower lip until his breath hissed between his teeth and she smiled at her victory.

“Are you going to let me in?” Her voice was a little husky and Junkrat’s gaze darkened further as he pushed himself off the doorjamb and stepped back, allowing her in. It felt intimate somehow, even though that was stupid because it was _her_ bathroom, but stepping over the threshold made her feel raw. Exposed. _Excited_.

Satya crafted the wireframe of a simple chair swiftly and brought it into existence in the middle of the shower stall, and gave him a shaky smile, aware of a gentle throb settling between her thighs, and she mentally scolded herself for letting him do this to her, it wasn’t fair – how could he make her feel like this just by _looking_ at her like that? He was too suggestive for his own good.

“Ah… have fun.” She said light-heartedly, trying to distract from the heat in her cheeks, and Junkrat’s grin widened.

“I will.” He replied, and his husky tone sent shivers all the way down to her toes, and she fled.

Once safely back in her room, the closed door a barrier between them, Satya sat on her bed and pressed her hands to her cheeks, welcoming the cool touch of her metal hand against her heated skin. She then pressed her thighs tightly together in an attempt to banish the ache and scowled at herself. How could she let him get under her skin like this? Clearly, reading lessons were a mistake. She’d been doing so _well_ too. She’d rebuffed him for the rest of their time in Nepal and shut him down completely in Lijiang, so why did she have to go and let her guard down here? Granted, she’d _meant_ to refuse him when he’d texted her and asked for a reading lesson but he’d practically begged and she hadn’t had the heart to say no, and had sworn to herself she would keep both of them from anything inappropriate. Well, look at how that had turned out! He’d barely been here for five minutes and now he was naked in her bathroom and she was a flustered mess.

Satya straightened her back and drew in a deep breath before releasing it. She could do this. All she had to do was sit beside him and go through their lessons. It would be easy. She would not allow herself to be distracted, and she wouldn’t let Junkrat do anything either. _There_. Her resolve was stiffened, she was determined, and all she had to do was wait for Junkrat to finish his shower so he could come out for his lesson, and then he would leave. She could hear the running water through the door and images sprung to her mind unbidden, images of Junkrat sitting in his chair, water and soap running in rivulets over his skin. She pictured him tipping his head back, throat tight, beneath the steaming liquid, his hair wet and dripping down the length of his torso and… in other places.

 _Enough_ , she told herself firmly. _Stop thinking about him naked._

It wasn’t like this was the first time she’d indulged in the thought of him, but it had only ever been late at night in the privacy of her own bed, where she was at liberty to indulge in such a fantasy. Here, with Junkrat primed to emerge from the bathroom at any moment, was not a safe place. She needed to _stop_. In a bid to distract herself, she went to her desk and began sorting through the books and worksheets she’d prepared for their lesson.

When Junkrat finally emerged from the shower, she wasn’t at all ready. The door slid open and clouds of steam billowed out, and Satya looked up to find Junkrat standing in the doorway. He was clean, as expected. He was damp, as expected. What she _hadn’t_ anticipated was him walking out clad only in a towel slung around his hips, and her mouth went dry at the sight of him. Junkrat advanced upon her with a grin on his face, like he knew _exactly_ what he was doing to her, the conniving little… Satya cleared her throat and decided to ignore the towel.

“Finished?” She asked, as though she hadn’t a care in the world. “Good, we can get started.”

“Mm.” Junkrat came a bit closer, then dropped his hand to his towel, and grinned. “Sorry ‘bout the towel. Figured y’wouldn’t lemme sit down if I put m’shorts back on.”

Satya immediately saw him, clean as whistle, back in those filthy shorts, sitting on her bed or her chair, and immediately thanked the gods for his foresight. “Quite right, too.” She agreed. He hadn’t really dried himself properly – his hair had obviously only been subjected to a cursory pass of the towel, and was dripping water all over him. Her gaze involuntarily traced the path of one glistening drop as it ran down his chest, over the defined muscle there, and finally into the trail of blond hair that led down below his towel. Satya jerked her gaze over to her desk, fastening on the handle of her mini-fridge, and frowned internally. Inviting Junkrat into her room, where it was just the two of them alone, had been a bad idea. She should have deferred the lesson until later, and snuck a narrow-eyed glance at the window, where rain was falling heavily outside. They should have gone somewhere else or postponed it all together, but no, she had to be _nice_ and offered to use her room instead. “Come and sit down.” She said, patting the bed beside her. She’d planned to have a nice, informal lesson, but now, as Junkrat advanced upon her bed clad only in a towel, she realised just how intimate this whole thing was, and that she had made a mistake.

He radiated warmth, his skin damp and hot from the shower, and she kept noticing it, damn him, as he leaned in close to see the book she held in her lap or to ask a question about a conjunction or an adverb. Satya had just opened her mouth to tell him what she had planned to do next, when she noticed that his hair hadn’t stopped dripping.

One drop splashed on her hand as he leaned in closer and she wiped it reflexively away and frowned just as more drops hit the open book in her lap, dotting the pages. Looking up, she noticed the damp spots on her bedclothes and narrowed her eyes at the culprit.

“Off the bed!” Satya grabbed his arm and tugged. “You’re dripping all over my blankets!”

Junkrat giggled but complied, his metal hand clamped around the edge of his towel for safety as he stood up.

“Shit, sorry, love.” He grinned at her, and Satya found she quite liked the pet name. It was… sweet. “I’ll sit… uh…”

“Here.” Satya said authoritatively, her mind fixed on problem solving. She patted the space in front of her bed and got him to sit on the floor, his back resting against the edge of it. Satya then slipped off her bed and rifled through her wardrobe for a second towel, which she draped over his head on the way back to her bed. She grinned at the startled sound he made, and more so when she started to rub the excess water from his hair. “You had the chance to do it yourself.” She reminded him, and got a giggle from beneath the towel.

When Satya was satisfied that he was dry, she pulled the towel from his head and tossed it into her laundry hamper, then eyed his hair with a frown, for it was sticking up in all directions, tangled and crazy.

“ _Honestly_ , Jamie.” She sighed, and began crafting a comb from hard light. Junkrat twisted around to see what she was doing, and grinned when he caught sight of the comb.

“This must be what goin’ t’the spa’s like.” He marvelled, and she laughed.

“Not quite. I dare say you’d like the mud baths, though.”

“Mud?” Junkrat sounded intrigued and delighted. “How d’ya have a bath in _mud?”_

“It’s volcanic ash turned into mud. It is supposed to detoxify, relax and revitalise. I do them every so often in Utopaea.”

Junkrat sounded astonished. “ _You_ get in a bath full of mud?”

Satya laughed again as she began drawing the comb through his damp hair. “Yes, I do. It’s part of a package deal. I have a spa day twice a month when I’m in India. It’s wonderful for stress relief.”

“But I thought y’didn’t like dirt?”

“I don’t.” Satya frowned at a knot that had formed by his ear, and attempted to untangle it. “But a spa treatment is different from ordinary mud. There’s nothing quite so nice as lying in a tub with a face mask and a hair masque and cucumber slices on your eyes. It’s wonderfully relaxing.”

“Ouch!” Junkrat rubbed at his scalp near the knot. “Cucumber?”

“It’s good for your eyes.” She explained, and drew her nails lightly over his scalp. Junkrat shivered, and Satya bit her lower lip, her grin widening as she did it again.

“Mm.” Junkrat tipped his head back a little, forcing more pressure from her hands. “Do they do massages an’ shit at y’spa?”

“They do.” Satya took the hint and laid down the comb, and gently ran both hands across his scalp. From her mirrored wardrobe door, she could see his eyes drift shut, and she smiled a pleased smile. “I have a spa treatment, a massage, I get threaded and waxed. It takes a whole day but it’s worth it.” She watched, utterly engrossed in his expression as she slowly drew her nails through his hair – he looked so _pleased_ it hurt, pleased and relaxed and so, so content – like an ignored pet suddenly swooped onto your lap for cuddles.

“Mm? Cool.” He mumbled, and Satya noticed his hand snaking up to tug at his towel, sort of… surreptitiously adjusting it, almost as though he were… tamping it down. Abruptly, it hit her just how dangerous this situation was – it was making them both accustomed to physical contact. Satya yanked her hands from his scalp like she’d been burnt, and Junkrat’s eyes popped open and he twisted around to look up at her.

“All done.” She said rather brusquely, and moved backwards on her bed to lean against the wall. “Come on. We should keep going.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Junkrat looked like he had whiplash as he stood up, expression confused. He gripped the edge of his towel as he climbed back onto the bed, but that didn’t stop the fabric riding high to reveal a dangerous amount of thigh, and Satya averted her gaze. If she’d known she’d end up stupidly attracted to this man, would she have offered to teach him in the first place? Satya frowned inwardly because… she really didn’t know.

Nepal entered her mind, and the memory of the kiss made her bite her lip. It had been nice, and she wanted to kiss him again, but… she couldn’t. Not until she was sure what was happening with Vishkar. Lúcio seemed so enthusiastic, but there was no guarantee his plan would work. She wondered if he wanted to kiss her then, and briefly pictured him just… leaning in and cupping her face in his large hands and capturing her lips… she doubted very much that she would protest, at least not at first. Ugh, this was such a _mess_.

Satya straightened her skirt and pulled her folder onto her lap, where she kept her worksheets. She was making Junkrat work through these at every lesson, and though he complained, it was helping him learn how to properly formulate a sentence. He argued with her frequently that he spoke English so he _already_ knew how to form sentences, but every time she pointed out that his speech was so peppered with slang and grammatically incorrect forms that if he were to write like that, it would look very strange, and people would pick up on that. The last thing he wanted was for other people to know about his former illiteracy, so he’d submitted to her worksheets with poor grace.

The moment she pulled a worksheet free he groaned, and Satya grinned at him. “You’ve had a reprieve from these since before Nepal.” She reminded him. “It’s time to get back into it.”

Junkrat groaned exaggeratedly. “I guess. Got anythin’ nice t’make it better?”

“To eat, I presume?” Satya went over to her mini-fridge, where she had mostly fruit, but also some chocolate biscuits and a caramel slice. Giving him the option, he chose the slice, and so Satya brought it over along with another towel, which she spread over both their laps, giving a silent sigh for the amount of laundry she would need to do after this lesson.

“Help yourself.” She said, picking up a piece for herself, and Junkrat bit into a slice, closed his eyes, and moaned theatrically, which made her laugh. “All right, you’ve had your dessert. Time for work.”

“Mph!” Junkrat shoved the whole slice in his mouth at once and wiped his sticky fingers on the towel before reaching for a pen. “Whas-ami-doig?” He wanted to know, and Satya raised a brow at him until he swallowed and repeated the question.

“What am I doin’?”

“Oh. We’re working on tenses today. See here…” Satya tapped the first question and began to explain it for him, and when Junkrat focused on the work and their conversation revolved entirely around it, time seemed to move faster. Before she knew it, they’d been there for two hours and Junkrat had completed four worksheets, of which he was enormously proud. Satya decided to end the lesson there, because they were out of caramel slices and he was getting distracted, though he’d done a very good job of staying on track up until now.

Satya closed her book with a snap and turned to smile at him. “That’s enough for today, I think.” She said, and Junkrat grinned. “You’ve done very well.”

His grin got wider, pride fighting with glee for dominance. “ _Fuck_ yeah.”

Satya grinned to herself as she collected the worksheets and books and tucked them into her folder, then carefully folded up the towel so she didn’t spill crumbs all over her bed. “You can go now.” She said over her shoulder as she carefully tipped the crumbs into her bin, then put the towel in her hamper. “Text me when you want another lesson.”

“Righto.” Junkrat clambered off the bed and headed into the bathroom to get changed, and when he emerged, clad once more in those filthy shorts with a ratty t-shirt thrown on over the top, he tossed his towel in her hamper, and Satya raised her brows at him.

“Junkrat? New condition. If you even _think_ of showing up for another lesson _before_ those clothes have been washed…” She let her voice trail off threateningly, and Junkrat knitted his brows and glanced down.

“Hn, guess I’d better do some washin’.” He agreed. “See ya later then, Sat?”

“Yes, I’ll see you in the workshop later today, if you’re there.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna head there. Still got restockin’ t’do, an’ a RIPtire t’make…”

“You’ll be busy then.”

“Yeah!” Junkrat looked delighted at the thought. “Righto, see ya, Sat.”

“Goodbye.”

Satya waited as Junkrat checked to make sure the coast was clear before he snuck out the door and headed down the corridor before anyone spotted him coming out of her room. She turned to face the window, where it was still raining, and opened it up so the delicious scent of falling rain filled her senses. She breathed deeply for a moment, thinking about Junkrat, about Vishkar, about herself. She let her eyes fall closed, and briefly offered up a small prayer that maybe, just maybe, things would work out, and she could be happy.

She wanted so much to just be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was this one of my favourite chapters to write? yes 
> 
> also satya is so close to the end of her tether I'm gonna yell


	59. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat has a run in with one of his own traps and comes off second best.

Junkrat tugged the trap open and shoved a spanner in between the teeth – the trap tried to spring shut and he swore at it, then scratched his head in confusion. This trap in particular was giving him issues – there was a problem with the tension and the spring wasn’t operating properly, so it wouldn’t stay open. Once he opened it, it sprang shut immediately, and he was bleeding in several spots where he hadn’t been quite fast enough to avoid getting nicked. Still, he hadn’t yet crushed his hand or taken any fingers off, so he was counting that as a good thing.

He tried to wiggle the spanner experimentally and found that it wouldn’t move at all – the force this trap was exerting was _crazy_. Junkrat rubbed his chin thoughtfully then flipped it upside down in order to get to the spring. Normally he went through the top but obviously that was a no go this time, and desperate times meant desperate measures.

He was at this moment, in the workshop with Brigitte, who had just disappeared into the back room looking for something. To his delight, Junkrat had found her a ready conversationalist, and she knew her way around a workshop – they’d had a few enjoyable moments thus far talking about their different projects, and snuggling the cat. Mullock was asleep on Torbjörn’s desk – he really liked it for some reason, and though Torbjörn acted gruff whenever he found the cat curled up amongst his projects, Junkrat had caught the engineer baby talking the orange ball of fluff a few times.

The doors to the workshop hissed open then, and Junkrat looked up to see Winston, Torbjörn, Satya and Lúcio in close discussion. Lúcio looked up and waved.

“Hey Rat!” He called. “Whatcha doing?”

“G’day!” Junkrat replied, having figured out that attacking the trap from the bottom wasn’t going to work, so he was now trying to pry the jaws open manually. “Just fixin’ this bloody trap.”

“Need a hand with it?” Torbjörn asked, casting an experienced eye over matters. “What’s wrong with it? Stuck?”

“Spring’s fucked up.” Junkrat explained, now with the trap pinned between his knees as he used both hands to try to pull the spanner out. “Won’t stay open. Just gotta get it open enough t’get the spring out an’ replace it. ‘M fine though.”

“Give me a shout if you need a hand.” Torbjörn said gruffly, and turned his attention to the schematics in his hands.

“Cheers, mate. What are y’lot up to?” Junkrat inquired, eyeing the group inquisitively. Satya was watching him struggle with the trap with a small smile on her face, and he felt a surge of stubbornness. This fuckin’ trap wasn’t gonna get the best of him in front of her, no fucking way! He’d get this bloody thing open or die trying. “The new arm?”

Satya nodded, an undecipherable expression on her face. “Yes. Just working out preliminary designs.”

“Sounds cool. Got anythin’ so far?”

“We have, yes.” Replied Winston. “We’ve x-rayed Satya’s arm and now we’re in the process of deconstructing the inner mechanisms-”

Junkrat tuned out as he watched Satya, because for the past few days he hadn’t been able to look at her without thinking of his reading lesson. She’d been checking him out, he _knew_ she had. He’d seen her gaze blatantly run down his body, all the way down to the towel he’d had wrapped around his hips. Bloody hell, it’d been hard trying to control himself – a towel was not the best thing to be wearing while trying to prevent a hard on. That’s why when Satya had made him shower, he’d jerked off in the stall, trying to satisfy himself enough to contain himself around her, because of the _looks_ she’d given him – he didn’t think there was a man on earth who wouldn’t be turned on after enduring _that_.

And she’d brushed his hair. Junkrat had never, to his knowledge, had anyone brush his hair before, and if his parents had, he didn’t count it because he didn’t remember it. But Satya’s soft touch, the slow, rhythmic strokes of the brush through his hair and then the feel of her nails dragging softly over his scalp… he was bloody lucky she’d stopped when she did, because the feel of her would have had him nutting in his towel before too long.

So invested was he in remembering the bliss of Satya’s hands in his hair while Winston kept talking, Junkrat neglected to really notice that the spring in the trap was moving… until it slammed shut on his hand.

Junkrat screamed in agony and all four of the others in the room dropped what they were doing and sprinted towards him – Lúcio took one look at the jagged teeth that had punctured all the way through his good hand and dove for the first aid kit, while Winston instantly got on the phone to Mercy. Satya and Torbjörn fell to their knees beside him while Brigitte came sprinting out of the storeroom to see what was happening.

He was going into shock, he could feel it – it felt like when he’d lost his leg, stabbing pains like someone was shoving red hot wire through his palm. Junkrat gritted his teeth and moaned in agony, and groped desperately against the trap, foot scrabbling on the ground.

“Get it off me!” He groaned, but Torbjörn pushed his hand away.

“Touch nothing until Angela gets here.” He growled. “Satya! Don’t let him touch it!”

Satya, who was on his right side, seized hold of his metal hand and held on tight.

“Don’t think about it.” She murmured. “Take your mind off it.”

“‘M sure… that’ll… work….” He hissed through clenched teeth. The pain was unbearable – blood was pouring from the wound and from a glance down at it, he could see that his palm was nearly completely severed – he was going to lose all his fingers, except for his thumb. “Christ!” He groaned, his entire left arm going into involuntary spasms. “How’m I gonna get… _two_ … prosthetics on?”

“Angela will fix it.” Satya said, and he curled his metal fingers into hers, holding on tight.

His vision was starting to fog from the pain. “Sure hope so…” He wheezed, and then the doors slid open and Mercy burst in, carrying her doctors kit and staff. Winston, Brigitte and Torbjörn melted backwards, though Lúcio dived in to help Mercy, while Satya stayed at his side, pinned in place by his grip on her hands.

“M _ein Gott_ , Junkrat.” Mercy cried, digging through her supplies. “What on earth did you do?”

“ _I_ didn’t.” He groaned. “Trap did.” The doors opened then to reveal Roadhog – Junkrat supposed someone had called him. He giggled weakly and turned his head to face his friend. “Look Hog!” He called. “No hands!”

“You won’t lose your hand.” Mercy said determinedly, and she grabbed his arm, swabbed him with a cool wipe and injected him with something.

“Oh yeah?” Junkrat asked woozily – he felt like his head had been stuffed with cotton wool. “Dunno… ‘bout… that…”

He was dimly aware of voices, of Mercy instructing people, and of Roadie and Winston working in tandem to pry the jaws of the trap apart to free his hand, and then whatever drug she had given him took effect, and he passed out.

 

* * *

 

When Junkrat awoke, he found himself floating luxuriously in a cloud. When he regained a little more common sense, he realised he was in a bed, somewhere, and he felt quite out of it – like his entire body was made of cotton wool. Hearing voices, he turned his head a little to find Hana and Roadhog sitting in some chairs by the wall. Roadhog was holding one of Hana’s handhelds, and appeared to be getting a lesson in how to play it, for Hana was on her knees in the chair beside him, pointing out different things and loudly giving encouragement.

Junkrat attempted to talk, but his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth, and so he didn’t say anything. Hana looked up at almost the same moment, and when she registered him looking at her, her eyes widened.

“Rat!” She yelped, scrambling off her chair, and Roadhog got to his feet, the handheld lying abandoned on his chair. The two off them crowded around his bedside, and Junkrat grinned weakly, feeling more and more like a real human being by the minute.

“Hoggie…” He mumbled. “Hana. G – g’day.”

“I’ll get Angela.” Hana volunteered. “I’m glad you’re okay, Rat!”

She darted off and Junkrat turned his gaze to Roadie, his memories now trickling back in. “Hoggie.” He said urgently. “M’hand. Where’s m’hand!? Where-”

Roadhog shook his head and cut him off. “On yer arm, dipshit. Angela saved it.” He rumbled, and Junkrat shut his eyes in relief. He didn’t seem to have any feeling in his arm whatsoever, and hoped fervently that was just a side effect of the drugs he was evidently on.

At that moment, Hana came back with Mercy in tow.

“Junkrat.” Mercy bustled over and had a look at the machines beeping around his bed. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m made outta marshmallow.” He mumbled, and she laughed as she pulled out a small penlight and flashed it in his eyes.

“Well, the good news is, that’s just the painkillers. I was able to save your hand, though we’ll have to do some tests in a day or two to make sure you’ve got no nerve or ligament damage that has evaded me.”

Junkrat blinked. “…What if I do?” He asked warily, and Mercy looked grave, putting the penlight away and examining his hand, which he now registered was swathed in bandages.

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge _if_ we get there, but if you do have ligament damage you’ll need surgery again to correct it, because it can hinder feeling and usage in some fingers or your whole hand, depending on what’s damaged.” She took in his eyes as they widened in horror, and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Junkrat. It’s a fairly simple fix, and I’m not convinced we’ll find any damaged nerves. I did a thorough job in theatre with you this morning, though I do say so myself.”

“Thank fuck.” Junkrat mumbled gratefully. “Was thinking I’d lose m’whole hand for sure. Dunno how’d I’d deal with no hands.”

“That was a cause for alarm.” Mercy agreed. “It certainly upped the stakes for your surgery.”

“Y’tellin’ _me_?” Junkrat giggled. He twitched his foot a little restlessly, and realised his prosthetic leg was gone. “So how long have I gotta stay here for? An’ where’s m’leg?”

“Marshmallows can’t walk, so you’ll have to stay there until the painkillers wear off and you’ve decided you’re human again, and then I’ll keep you in overnight for observation. You’ll be able to go in the morning. As for your leg-” Mercy pointed towards his bedside table, and Junkrat twisted around to see his peg leg resting on top. “-it’s right there, waiting for you.”

“Thanks, doc.” He mumbled gratefully. “Dunno what I’d have done if y’weren’t there t’stitch it up-”

“Let’s not dwell on morbid thoughts, hmm? You’re very welcome, though.” Mercy smiled down at him. “I’ve got some things to finish in my office, but I’ll be back later. Here’s your button-” Mercy took a small, buzzer type device and put it near his metal hand. “-if you feel woozy, strange in _any_ way, or if you start feeling pain, press that and I’ll be right in.”

“Aight.” Junkrat let himself sink into the pillows and closed his eyes briefly. He still felt like a marshmallow but at least the hideous pain was gone. He opened his eyes again and grinned at Roadhog. “Stupid thing t’do, ay?”

“Fuckin’ moron.” Hog growled. “How the hell’d y’do it?”

“Spring’s busted.” Junkrat defended himself. “Was _tryin’_ t’fix it. Y’know Torb offered t’help thirty seconds before I cut m’fuckin’ fingers off? Shoulda taken him up on it, ay.”

“Y’shoulda.” Hog agreed, and Hana and came over to perch on the side of his bed.

“How does it feel?” She asked, and Junkrat grinned.

“Fuckin’ _brilliant_. I dunno what the hell Merc gave me but _fuck_ , it’s good. Can’t feel a thing.”

Hana giggled. “That’s good though, isn’t it? I’ve texted Lúcio, and he’s coming to see you.”

“Oh yeah? Sweet.” Junkrat readjusted his position a bit and grimaced at an odd tugging sensation where his hand was supposed to be. “How long have I been in here, anyway?”

“A few hours.” Hana chirped. “Angela knocked you out and then you went into surgery for about three hours, and we’ve been waiting for you to wake up for about-” She turned to face Roadie. “-well, not that long. Half an hour.” Roadhog nodded in confirmation, and Hana did too. “Yeah, half an hour.” She continued. “So now, it’s nearly three-thirty.”

Junkrat nodded – that meant he’d lost pretty much the entire day. “Anyone else been through? Or just you two?” He inquired, and Hana grinned.

“Nah, there’s been people coming through here all day! Ana, Rein and Winston came down to check you out and Jack came down to see if you were gonna lose your hand. Lu’s been through a few times and he brought Mei one time… Uhh… Torb and Brigitte came through and Fareeha stopped by too. Oh, and Satya came to see you not long before you woke up.”

Junkrat swore at himself internally for having the misfortune of still being asleep when Satya came to see him. “I’m popular today.” He giggled briefly. “Should chop m’hand off more often.”

Hana laughed along with him. “I don’t think Angie would be too happy if you started doing that on the reg.” She grinned, and then the doors opened to reveal Lúcio, who was carrying a bright orange ball of fluff.

“I smuggled him in.” He said in a low whisper, and dumped the cat on Junkrat’s bed. “Don’t let Angie see!” He grinned then. “Nice to see you up and about, Rat.”

“Dunno bout that, mate.” Junkrat said, as Mullock kneaded his way up his body, turned a circle on his chest, and sat down, purring madly. “I’m awake, at least.”

Lúcio laughed. “Guess so.” He agreed. “Gave us a hell of a fright, though.”

Junkrat giggled. “Yeah? Wasn’t plannin’ on it, I can tell ya that much.”

“Is that a cat?” Mercy appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips and an exaggerated frown on her face. “A _cat?_ In my sterile hospital environment?”

“Wasn’t me.” Lúcio said immediately, and Mercy rolled her eyes with a grin, then came over to the bed to give Mullock a scratch around the ear, to which he purred blissfully.

“Hmm.” She mock narrowed her eyes at the cat. “I suppose he can stay, as long as you don’t let him wander around. I don’t need cat germs in my operating theatre.”

“He’ll stay put.” Junkrat promised. “Lazy lump’s gone t’sleep, no budgin’ him now.”

“I can see that.” Mercy’s voice dropped almost to a coo as she rubbed Mullock’s good ear and he stretched and purred. “What a sweet boy… I’d better not catch him outside this room.” She warned, and then after a brief check of the various machines Junkrat was hooked up to, she went back to her office.

Hana and Lúcio eventually left for dinner, and Roadhog did too, though he said he’d be back after dinner so Junkrat didn’t lose his mind from boredom. Mercy’s medibay had a few rooms for patients to be put in for recuperation, so he found himself locked away in there over dinner, with no one but his tray of food and the cat for company. He watched tv for a while and had an excellent time, because _Mad Max_ was on, and ever since Reinhardt (who had been young when the reboots were coming out), had introduced him to the franchise, Junkrat had been _hooked_. Their depiction of Australia as a wasteland was heaps of fun, and though it wasn’t always realistic, he did love watching Max get through the bullshit. His current favourite, _Fury Road_ , was on tv as part of a throwback night, and he was having great fun cheering on Furiosa, who – not gonna lie – sometimes reminded him of the Queen. Her no nonsense attitude, that is. Furiosa was much less of a horrible bitch than the Queen.

Nux had just died historic on the Fury Road when there was a soft knock at the door, and Junkrat looked up to see Satya’s face through the glass partition. He froze for a moment and stared, and then he got his shit together and waved at her to come in. She opened the door and came in while Junkrat groped about in his bedsheets for the remote so he could pause the movie and not be distracted while talking to her.

“G’day!” He said cheerily, finally finding the remote and hitting pause. Satya looked up at the carnage on the screen and her lips twitched into a slight grin.

“Good evening. I should have known you’d like _Mad Max_.”

“Oi, this movie is the fuckin’ _bomb_.”

“I’m sure.” Satya came a little closer, and sat primly on the edge of his bed. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” Junkrat shrugged. “Felt fuckin’ out of it for a while but that’s all gone now. Can’t really feel m’hand but Merc said that’s normal, an’ it’ll come back by tomorrow. I wanna leave but I ain’t allowed.” He complained, and Satya smiled softly.

“You should listen to your doctor, Jamie.”

“Have been! See, I’m still here. Haven’t got m’leg an’ fucked off yet.”

“I’m sure Angela’s pleased.” Satya’s gaze settled on his bandaged hand, and Junkrat searched for a new topic.

“Hana said y’dropped by when I was still out of it.” He phrased the words casually, yet she still looked rather startled.

“Oh… yes. I wanted to see how the operation had gone, but you were asleep.”

“Hope it went well.” Junkrat mumbled. “Gonna have a time of it if I lose both hands.”

Satya shrugged lightly. “Not if you get a surgically attached prosthetic, like mine.”

Junkrat frowned – he hadn’t considered that. “Oh.” He blinked for a moment, gaze fastened on her arm. “I guess, yeah. So what’s happenin’ with that, anyway? Interrupted yer little brainstormin’ sesh a bit, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Satya fixed him with a mildly accusing look. “You scared the life out of me, as a matter of fact.” He grinned broadly as she continued, and then over her shoulder, he saw Roadhog appear through the glass partition of the door, take one look at Satya, and turn to leave. “But we worked on it a little later, once Angela confirmed you were out of danger.”

“Oh yeah? How far’d y’get? Gonna replace the arm entirely, yeah?”

“Yes.” Satya brushed her good hand over her prosthetic, and a shadow crossed over her face. “That is the general plan. We’ve used x-rays to construct a detailed schematic of every interior mechanism. It’s a bit complex for me – I’m not an engineer in that sense – so Winston and Torbjörn have taken over. Lúcio, Mei and Brigitte are giving input too. They’re going to reverse engineer a prototype arm, and once they’re satisfied that it works, they’re going to work on changing the design and upgrading it, before making the actual arm I’ll wear.”

“Nice.” Junkrat grinned at her. “So y’are definitely leaving Vishkar now?”

Satya hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yes. I… if this works.”

“C’mon, Sat.” He complained. “They followed y’to China an’ pulled some creepy bullshit. Kick ‘em in the face an’ finish it.”

“Like you punched Sanjay, hmm?” Satya raised a brow, and he giggled.

“Yeah, fuckin’ _exactly_ like that. T’be fair, I thought that bastard looked familiar, but it didn’t really click who he was until I got upstairs. Shit, if I’d known… I’d have punched that fucker harder.”

“Well, if you were going to do _that_ , I’m pleased you’d forgotten who he was.” Satya folded her arms and gave him a hard look. “You’d have only gotten yourself into more trouble if you had, though I might remind you that you aren’t in any small amount of trouble now.”

Junkrat giggled. “I know. Winston’s been at me, sayin’ I’m up for disciplinary shit or whatever. Athena was beepin’ at me all day yesterday ‘cause I was ‘sposed t’go get disciplined, but I never went. What kinda dumb fuck does that shit _willingly_ , anyway?”

Humour curved her mouth, though she was plainly trying to look severe. “Not you, evidently. I suppose you’ll be unhappy to hear, then, that Sanjay’s nose is healing well, and that he’s still lobbying to have you and Roadhog kicked out of Overwatch and arrested?”

Junkrat screwed up his mouth. “Fuckin’ _bastard_.” He growled.

Satya smiled at him. “It won’t work.” She assured him. “Winston’s working on the UN, and in any case, he’s gaining more and more funding from external partners recently. Vishkar’s hold is slipping.”

“ _Good_.” He mumbled furiously, and the corner of Satya’s mouth ticked up.

“I’ll let you rest now.” She said, missing the way his expression changed. _No! Don’t leave yet! Y’just got here!_ “I hope you heal quickly.”

“Y’don’t hafta go…” He muttered, and Satya smiled.

“I’ve got work to do. Vishkar has sent me another contract, and I have to submit blueprints soon.”

“Tell ‘em t’get fucked!” He argued fervently, and her smile widened.

“Well… I will do so… just as soon as my new arm is finished.” She murmured, and then leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead. “Goodnight, Jamison.”

He flushed in pleasure and grinned up at her. “G’night, Sat.”

“It’s _Satya_.” She said, but she was smiling.

“I know!” Junkrat giggled to himself and she looked at him so softly he felt breathless.

“You’re hopeless.” She said, but her smile took the sting out of the words.

“I know that, too.” He agreed, and she swooped down to kiss his forehead again, and he thrilled at her touch.

“Goodnight, Jamie.”

Junkrat lay back in his pillows once he couldn’t see her anymore, and smiled happily to himself. She was so _good_ to him. The door opened again and admitted Roadhog, who took his time sitting down in the bedside chair before speaking.

“Had a visitor.” He rumbled, and Junkrat giggled.

“Yep!”

“Hmph. ‘Spose she roused at ya for bein’ a dickhead?”

“Nope!” He crowed. “She was real nice, actually.”

“The hell’s wrong with her?”

“Oi, get fucked.” Junkrat glared balefully and carefully lifted his bandaged hand onto his stomach. The painkillers were wearing off now but his hand still felt more like mush than an actual hand, though he was holding off any panic about having no functioning hands until the morning, because that’s when Mercy had said it’d be better.

“Hope angel wings is roight, ay.” He grimaced. “Dunno how I’m gonna hack it with just a thumb.”

“She knows what she’s doin’.”

All of a sudden, a memory rushed back to him. Junkrat’s eyes widened, for he hadn’t realised it when it had happened, but… “Didja call her ‘Angela’ before? Y’did!” He tipped his head to the side and cocked a brow. “First name basis with the doc, ay? Go Hog.”

“Get _fucked_.” Roadie rumbled, sounding pissed.

Junkrat giggled hysterically, not caring in the slightest if he was right or not – he just wanted to tease. “Someone’s defensive.” He cooed. “Y’know what they say ‘bout denial!” Roadhog reached out and thumped him hard on the shoulder. “Ah! Fuck you, y’bastard.” Junkrat snapped, unable to rub his sore arm because his hand was bandaged. “Was just havin’ a go at ya.”

“Learn t’keep y’stupid trap shut an’ y’won’t get hurt, y’dumb fuck.” Roadhog growled right back.

Junkrat swelled in indignation. “Oi, go get-”

The door opened suddenly and he cut himself off abruptly as Mercy entered the room. She twinkled brightly at both of them and came over to frown at one of the machines next to him, which Junkrat had failed to notice was beeping.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, lying a hand briefly on his brow before inspecting the beeping machine with something close to confusion. “Your heartrate is up… do you feel any pain?”

“I’m fine!” Junkrat protested.

“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes at him speculatively. “You look agitated. What have you been doing? I thought I said to _rest?”_

“Blame Hog.” Junkrat muttered defensively, and that caused Roadhog to get a short lecture from Mercy, and Junkrat giggled to himself as Hog fixed him with the kind of look that said he was _really_ in for it now.

She plumped his pillows and twiddled a knob on a machine that made him feel _really_ pleasantly floaty, and then she left, leaving him under strict orders to stay relaxed and calm.

When she had gone, Junkrat grinned fuzzily up at Roadhog. “G’day.” He said, and immediately became absorbed in how weird his voice had sounded.

Roadhog sighed, not that Junkrat noticed. He waved a large hand in front of Junkrat’s face, and he giggled aimlessly. “Three sheets t’the wind.” Roadhog sounded disgusted, though Junkrat didn’t pay him the slightest bit of attention, having instead found his buzzer, and was staring at it with rapt amazement. Having become a little too obsessed with the button (and having summoned Mercy with it five times in the space of ten minutes) it was summarily confiscated and _Mad Max_ was put back on, and Junkrat watched the movie, utterly enthralled by it, until Mercy decided it was getting late and gave him something that made him drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

In the days following his little accident, Junkrat was released from the medibay, but had to keep reporting for check-ups. Mercy had examined his hand carefully and thankfully for the both of them, they found no nerve damage and as his hand appeared to be in good working order, further surgery was cancelled and instead he got loaded with rounds of physio. Mercy had given him a folder of gentle hand exercises to be done until she said he could stop, and though Junkrat often forgot about them, Roadhog was in charge of reminding him to do them. He was utterly, completely, one-hundred percent banned from working on traps for the foreseeable future, which pissed him off, but Junkrat had decided the lectures from Mercy weren’t worth it, so he left his traps alone. For now, anyway.

Still unused to regular medicine, let alone the crazy magical shit Mercy did with her tools, Junkrat had watched the vivid lines of his surgical scars swiftly fade from bright crimson strokes to scabby lines to now, where they were fast fading from glossy fresh scar tissue to the soft pink of old wounds with nothing short of amazement. He looked up from his perch on the bed in Mercy’s office, and gave her a grin as she poured some sort of antiseptic solution onto a pad. Due to his habit of becoming routinely filthy, Mercy had been making him come to the medibay twice a day to have his hand cleansed, for he seemed to be able to get dirt and grease under his bandages. This allowed her to check the healing process and work on a short round of physio, and Junkrat had begun to look forwards to these visits just as soon as Mercy took a leaf out of Satya’s book and started keeping sweet snacks in her fridge to give him at the culmination of his appointment. She had all sorts of things – sweet drinks, lollipops, small cakes, chocolates and assorted lollies, and Junkrat was only too happy to take those off her hands.

“Still dunno how y’do it, doc.” He mumbled almost to himself, turning his hand over and marvelling at the faded pink, shiny scars across his palm, all that were left to indicate that he’d had his hand cut in half. Mercy had assured him those marks would be completely gone in a week with regular treatment, and he still couldn’t quite believe it.

Mercy laughed quietly. “I must say, it’s quite easy to become used to this sort of technology. It’s nice, seeing some wonder.”

Junkrat giggled. “It’s like magic.” He said, grimacing slightly as she sat down on her chair before him and began gently swabbing his hand. “It’s some kinda fairy wand or some shit, Merc.”

She laughed again and gave him a smile. “It did feel like that when I first developed it.” She admitted. “It was something out of stories, you know? I felt like some sort of demigod.”

Junkrat didn’t know what a demigod was – a small god, maybe? Half a god, perhaps. Take a regular sized god and just fuckin’ chop ‘em in half and that makes a demigod – but he nodded along anyway. “Can see that. Must be a trip, healin’ someone just by wavin’ a stick at ‘em.”

“It’s a _little_ more complicated than that-” Mercy said with a smile. “-but you’re not wrong.”

A thought occurred to him, and he giggled hard for a moment. “Merc – doc-” He gasped out. “What if I went for the set!” At her confused look, he wiggled his fingers briefly. “Look, see, lost an arm an’ a leg already, an’ lost this hand too, ‘cept y’put it back together – but that’s three outta four!” He looked down at his good foot, contemplating things as Mercy stared at him with a slowly growing expression of horror. “What if I wanted t’go for four outta four?” He asked, tilting his foot back and forth as he ran through his options. “I mean, y’can just put me back together again, roight?”

Mercy pulled herself together. “Junkrat.” She said firmly. “On _no account_ are you to cut your foot off. Just because I can reattach whatever limbs you feel like hacking off doesn’t mean I want to, nor will I, if you’re so foolish as to do a thing on _purpose_.”

Junkrat deflated. “Well, I was mostly jokin’.” He said defensively, and she raised a brow.

“Mostly? Try ‘completely’, and I’ll be happy.” Junkrat avoided answering and Mercy shook her head and continued swabbing his hand. “ _Honestly_ , Junkrat. The things you come up with – no wonder poor Roadhog’s at his wits end.”

Junkrat giggled. “Poor _Hoggie_ , huh? How come he gets sympathy an’ I don’t? _I’m_ the one who got his hand chopped off. _Two_ hands, actually. _Both_ hands. A leg, too.”

“And whose silly fault was that?” She asked, and his brows drew together.

“Gangrene an’ a trap.” He said, stung. “Didn’t do either of ‘em on _purpose_.”

Mercy looked up and, seeing the expression of hurt on his face, visibly softened. “I’m sorry.” She said, and patted his wrist lightly. “I didn’t mean to imply that you had.” She eyed his metal hand briefly. “What a shame I didn’t know you earlier. I could have saved those limbs.”

“M’arm, sure.” He agreed. “But I don’t reckon y’coulda done anythin’ for m’leg.”

A hint of challenge flashed in her eyes. “And why is that?”

“Well, f’starters, even if I’d been able t’call ya, I’d have bled out before y’got there.” Junkrat said reasonably. “An’ there’s gotta be limits t’that thing. M’leg got shredded. Hangin’ in ribbons. Foot was completely gone. Just mush an’ sticky red bits. Reckon y’coulda put _that_ back together again?”

Mercy’s brows drew together as she thought. “Well… no.” She said heavily. “I can’t bring back vaporised body parts. It’s a shame, though.”

“It is.” Junkrat agreed. “Well, I’m used t’me peg an’ everythin’ but I sure wouldn’t mind havin’ m’leg an’ m’arm back. If I lose m’prosthetics or if they break I’m fucked. Don’t like that too much.”

“No one would.” Mercy dropped the antiseptic pad into the bin and picked up a fresh bandage. “Alright, we’re nearly finished.”

Junkrat twitched in excitement. “What’s there t’eat?” He asked eagerly, and she laughed.

“Ana baked this morning. How do you feel about _kunafeh_?”

“Never heard of it. What is it?” He asked curiously, as Mercy laid some padding against the wounds and began to wrap the bandage around his palm in firm, even movements.

“It’s a dessert. It’s a very sweet…” She paused, considering. “It’s almost like a cheesecake? I’m not quite sure how to describe it. It’s absolutely delicious, though. Fareeha makes it sometimes and she always makes enough to share.”

“Sounds good t’me.” Junkrat was curious to see what it was, and when Mercy had finished wrapping his hand she went into her private office to get the kunafeh out of the fridge. Junkrat was absurdly enchanted by the dessert – he’d never seen anything like it, the crunchy sweet topping that looked like that angel hair pasta Reinhardt liked, with an incredible, gooey centre. The whole thing had been drizzled in a sweet syrup and he sucked his fingers, determined to waste not a drop.

Mercy watched him in some amusement. “Why not head to the kitchens?” She suggested. “Ana was showing Reinhardt some of her recipes, so I’m sure there’ll be other desserts ready by now. She’ll give you a plate if you ask nicely.”

Junkrat didn’t need telling twice.

Having said his goodbyes and leaving Mercy in her office, Junkrat scurried along to the kitchens, where he found Ana and Reinhardt up to their elbows in flour. Junkrat took in the opposite bench, which was lined with trays of delectable looking goodies, with stars in his eyes.

“G’day.” He said, trying to be slick, and Ana cocked a brow at him.

“Hello there. Come for something to eat?”

He nodded vigorously, which made Reinhardt laugh.

“You came to the right place!” He boomed. “No finer food to be had in all the land.”

“Aw, don’t be silly.” Ana waved her hand at Reinhardt then offered Junkrat a grin. “What can I get you?”

“Merc gave me a slice of – of-” Junkrat tried in vain to pronounce it, and gave up, lamely pointing at the dish of kunafeh instead. “That stuff. It’s _bloody_ good.”

Ana looked pleased. “I’m glad you like it. Have you had much in the way of Middle Eastern food before?”

When Junkrat shook his head, she clicked her tongue disapprovingly and took down a large plate from the cupboard and began loading it full of food from each platter, and finally presented him with the plate, fully loaded with so many sweet things it made his mouth water.

“Here you go! All fresh, and you can’t get better than that.” Ana smiled at him. “So you’ve tried the _kunafeh_?” Her pronunciation was very different to Mercy’s, much more fluid. At his nod, she began pointing out the various other desserts on the plate. “This is _qatayef_ \- they’re stuffed with cheese - and these little things are called _kahk_ – they’re a type of cookie. You get some _tamr_ , and these are stuffed with goat cheese, which is my favourite.” Ana paused and stole one of the stuffed dates off his plate, and popped it into her mouth despite his protest. “Mm, they’re good.” She turned and got another one from the tray to replace the stolen one, before she pointed at Reinhardt, who was stirring a large bowl. “Rein is in charge of the _halva_ for breakfast tomorrow and I’m going to make some _qara’ ‘asali_ for dessert tonight, so if you finish that plate off, come back in an hour or two and see what else there is to eat.”

“Cheers, Ana, Rein.” Junkrat grinned at them both. “Looks great.”

“We’re practicing.” She said warmly. “Jesse wants to a have a food night, you know, get everyone to cook their favourite things? I’ve got Hana, Rein, Torb and Lúcio on board, and I’m trying to convince Satya, Mei and Angela, though they all say they can’t cook. Jesse and Jack are going to barbecue.”

Junkrat swelled. “What?” He demanded. “Y’aren’t gonna let the _yanks_ have the barbie?”

Ana and Reinhardt both stifled laughter.

“And what’s wrong with zat?” Reinhardt asked. “You think zey can’t cook?”

“Course they can’t!” Junkrat began laying out the very obvious. “Number one, they call it grillin’, an’ that just ain’t what barbecuein’ is. Number two, I’ve heard what the cowboy thinks y’grill, an’ he’s talkin’ pork ribs an’ potato salad an’ shit. Dunno why in the hell he’s makin’ spare ribs when he could be havin’ a _bewt_ rack of lamb instead, but these yanks-” He shrugged dramatically. “-they’re all absolutely crackers if they think they can out barbecue an _Aussie_.”

Ana clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. “Well, I must say, lamb appeals to me much more than pork does.” Junkrat swelled with pride and she grinned at him. “Maybe speak to Jesse?” She suggested. “You could have a barbecue contest. Settle whose food is best once and for all.”

“That-” Junkrat declared, pointing a syrupy spoon at her. “-is a fuckin’ brilliant idea. I’ll do that after I’ve eaten all this.”

Junkrat thanked them both profusely for the food then and, hands full of the plate plus a bowl of molasses and a cup of cream, he set off back to the workshop, head swimming from all the Arabic names. He reached the workshop and found Brigitte, Satya and Roadhog inside, and he scooted over to his workbench to lay down the platter and beam at Roadie.

“Ana an’ Rein are cookin’ up a storm.” He picked up one of the dates and popped it into his mouth. “ _Fuck_ , that’s good.” He mumbled through a mouthful of date and cheese, and swallowed hastily. “Want some?”

Roadhog nodded, then looked over his shoulder. “Offer ‘em some first.” He rasped, and Junkrat could have kicked himself for not thinking of it first.

“Oi, ‘Metra, Brigitte.” He called, carrying the tray towards Satya’s bench, which was close. Satya looked up from her blueprints and Brigitte shoved her magnifying goggles up onto her head. “Rein an’ Ana are cookin’.” He explained. “Y’want some?”

Satya smiled at him and Junkrat felt his own grin go a bit goofy as she stood up and headed towards him. “Thank you.” She murmured. “I’d love some.”

Brigitte came over too. “Thanks, Junkrat!” She said cheerily. “Wow, it looks good.” She pointed. “What’s this stuff?”

“Uhhhh…” After some intense thought, Junkrat managed to name some of the desserts, though his pronunciation sounded nothing like Ana’s, and it turned out that Satya knew a few of them.

“I’ve spent plenty of time in the Middle East.” She said by way of explanation. “The food in Oasis is just to die for.”

They had no plates, but Satya whipped up some hard light ones and having picked out what they wanted, the two women headed back to their respective workstations and Junkrat carried the food back over to Roadhog, and the two feasted on Ana’s sweets, locked deep in discussion on _precisely_ the right way to grind the two Americans into the ground when it came to their barbecue contest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was fun to write but holy shit you guys I'm excited for the next chapter!!! hold onto your socks because there will be some very significant developments in chapter 60~


	60. Beyond Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya makes a decision

A fortnight had passed since Junkrat had nearly chopped his hand off, and it was now officially spring. It was getting warm enough to go without a light jacket or cardigan, and Satya relished the thaw. She had, in the need for some quiet introspection, ventured outside and had sought out a quiet patch of sunshine. Hanging her light coat over a nearby railing, Satya sat down in the sun, closing her eyes and tipping her chin up towards the cool ocean breeze.

She had come here to think, for there were too many pressing things on her mind and they crowded her in her room. She wanted some space, some peace and quiet – in the distance, a wracking _boom_ shuddered through the base and she frowned in Junkrat’s general direction. He sure could pick his moments to test his explosives. More explosions followed, one after the other and so Satya went over to the railing and dug into the pocket of her coat for the set of earplugs she carried with her most times. She had quite a few pairs, and tended to leave some in her various jackets and drawers and pockets and purses, so she’d have them when she needed them.

Stuffing the buds into her ears, she relaxed as they blocked out the sounds of Junkrat’s testing completely, though they also blocked out the gentle sound of the ocean, which she had been enjoying. Well, if she had to have both or nothing, she’d choose nothing. Settling back down on her place on the grass, Satya purged her mind clear of the images of grass stains on her white slacks and instead thought of Vishkar.

Vishkar was troubling her, and had been for a while. As much as she had been putting it off and making excuses and sinking ever further into denial, Satya knew she had now reached a kind of stalemate within herself. She had to make her choice, and possibly what irked that part of her that was in denial was that the choice was already made.

She had to leave Vishkar, she knew that much.

So what was the problem? The problem lay in her loyalty to the corporation – shattered and in pieces, but she still felt the urge to defend them. The problem lay in her emotions – for so long they had been her only family, and now…

She had a new family.

Satya smiled softly to herself, marvelling at the thought. She had, over the last few weeks as she worked with Winston, Lúcio, Torbjörn and Mei to come up with a prototype for her new arm, expressed concerns for where she would go, and it had eventually got to the point where she knew what the answer would be, but was still asking to satisfy the secret thrill inside her, the validation when she was informed that Overwatch was a family and she was a part of that family now.

McCree – that is, Jesse – had more or less informed her that she was his little sister now, going so far as to address her as that in public, which Satya found amusing, but secretly endearing. In India, she’d had no biological siblings, and once she had left her parents, she had considered herself to have no biological family at all. An orphan taken in and nurtured by a corporation – she’d always thought them kind, thought of Vishkar as having done a great thing for her, and technically, they had, but Ana had spoken with her long into the night last Tuesday, over several bottles of wine, and by the end of it they’d both been quite drunk, drunker than Satya had ever recalled getting before. Ana had laid out what it was to be a real parent, how legitimate, _loving_ relationships worked, and had pointed out just how wrong it was for Vishkar to prey upon poor children and press them into service under the guise of ‘improving their lives’. Satya had never thought about it like that and had grown maudlin at the thought, eventually breaking down into tears at the thought that maybe her own parents hadn’t been undeserving of her, like she’d always been told, but maybe, faced with a life of poverty with their daughter or a life of plenty without, had chosen the latter option for her sake.

It had made her feel utterly wretched, and part of her wanted desperately to reach out and find them, but the rest of her was afraid. Afraid of facing them again after so long apart, and… afraid of rejection, if Vishkar was right and her parents hadn’t wanted her after all.

After a period of two hours intense contemplation and introspection sitting there by the ocean, Satya felt a weight lifted from her shoulders, because she had at long last made up her mind. She had more or less just gone along with Lúcio not because she wanted to, but because she knew he was right, but still she had been reluctant. She’d spent the night going over those files, that damning evidence that proved Vishkar’s wrong doing and… Satya had decided. She was going to leave Vishkar, no matter what. Even if they tried anything, even if it compromised her safety, even if Lúcio’s plan failed, she would leave them. She still ached inside, an ache caused by regret and grief, but she had at long last managed to separate those emotions into their own compartment, leaving her free to act as she knew was right.

She was going to leave them.

Winston had spoken with her in an in-depth conversation that culminated with his offer of a genuine position within Overwatch – he was drawing up the necessary paperwork to have her drafted in as a new member, and now that it was confirmed and her future wasn’t hanging in the air, she felt lighter. Thinking about it now, Satya was fairly certain that may have even been a part of why she had baulked at the thought of leaving, loyal or not – she depended on her routine, and after nearly twenty years of rigid yet comforting stability, the prospect of upheaval terrified her. Now though, with her future certain, she could look at things with less panic and she could now accept what she needed to do.

Aside from Vishkar, there was another thought that had been gnawing at her relentlessly.

Junkrat.

What exactly she was to do with him was another matter entirely. It was one thing to accept that she liked him, and it was even one thing to kiss him, but it was another thing entirely to contemplate the future. Did he… want a relationship? Should she expect that he would? What if he didn’t? What if his attraction ran more along the lines of wanting a one night stand, or a fuck buddy? Satya bit her lip in distress, because now the thought had occurred to her, it wouldn’t go away. What if, now that she had accepted that she liked him and that her only obstacle was gone, she approached him with the idea of a relationship and he rebuffed her?

She supposed she would have to speak to him. She would have to broach the subject and let him know what she was feeling. Satya twisted up her mouth at the thought – she didn’t particularly enjoy revealing her emotions to people, mainly because she was always scared of not being able to express herself properly.

A thought hit her then. She could just… kiss him.

Satya twisted her fingers together, considering it. She could. He probably wouldn’t object. In fact, now that she thought about things clearly (and remembered what he’d said in Nepal), Junkrat did seem to want more from her. Surely he wouldn’t put _that_ much effort into things if he’d only considered her as a brief fuck. No, he must want more.

So maybe, she could just kiss him, and that would let him know what she wanted. It would solve her tied up tongue, that was certain. Satya wavered back and forth, making up her mind to do it and then changing her mind and resolving to be silent. She spent a good while doing this and then all of a sudden she made up her mind and then found herself striding through the halls towards the testing range.

She’d removed her earplugs to find that explosions were still echoing, and so she knew exactly where Junkrat was. It would be difficult to kiss him in private there, which made her falter, but she supposed she could lead him somewhere sheltered and it was that thought that bolstered her. Satya reached the testing range to find Junkrat in the middle of placing a bomb in the centre of the range, and all of a sudden her doubts were gone. He was humming to himself enthusiastically, goggles pushed high on his forehead and earmuffs slung around his neck. He was also, unfortunately, rather grubby. Satya stood by the protective barrier as he stooped, his back to her as he opened the side of the bomb and fiddled about with the wires for a moment. He closed the hatch then, evidently satisfied, and turned around. His face lit up when he saw her and it made her feel warm inside, and Satya had to fight to stop her smile from revealing too much.

She stood in silence as he loped towards her.

“G’day!” He called cheerily, lifting a hand in welcome, a broad grin on his face.

“Hello.” Satya greeted him warmly and he paused, taking stock of her body language, and his expression changed, becoming a little more… hopeful. Satya found she liked it more than she should. “How is your hand?” She dropped her gaze anxiously to his good hand, and noted that he’d taken the bandages off to reveal smooth skin, marred only by the faint hint of a white scar across his palm.

“She’s all good!” Junkrat said proudly, his expression marvelling as he turned his hand this way and that, examining the scar. “Merc said I could keep goin’ with her laser thingo if I wanted, an’ it’d get rid of the scar, but I said nah.”

Satya looked at him, surprised. “You want to _keep_ the scar?”

He grinned. “Can’t screw m’tally up now, can I?”

“Your _tally_ -” Satya shook her head. “Why am I not surprised?” Junkrat giggled, and she looked about at the testing range. “How are your tests going?”

“Great!” Junkrat enthused, the subject of his hand evidently completely forgotten in the face of his explosives. “Tested four batches so far, on t’the last two now. Touch wood they don’t fuck up, ay?” He looked about and Satya eyed him, wondering what was making him look so perplexed as he reached out almost reflexively to the metal barrier beside them, then pulled back and frowned.

“No wood.” He muttered. “Need… a stick.”

 “Mm.” Satya replied before she reminded herself of her original purpose and straightened her back. “Jamison… do you have a minute?”

He raised a brow but nodded. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“I want to talk to you. It’s… important.” Satya bit her lip for a moment, supremely unwilling to continue her line of thought in public. “Come to the workshop.” She said in a fresh burst of inspiration. “If you can bear to pull yourself away from your explosives, that is.”

Junkrat looked curious, though at her last words he turned back and forth between her and the bomb waiting on the testing range a few times, conflict strong on his features, and Satya bit her lower lip to conceal a smile.

“How about you meet me in an hour?” She suggested. “It’ll give you time to finish.”

The conflict on his face disappeared, replaced by a broad grin. “Cheers, love. Workshop in an hour, got it.”

Satya left him with his bombs and went straight to the workshop herself; she could get a little work done while she waited for him to arrive. On the way, however, she ran into Lúcio and got distracted.

“Hey, Satya.” He greeted. “How’s things?”

“Good.” Satya took a step closer. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, actually.”

“Oh yeah? What’s up?” Lúcio leaned against the wall, hands stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie, and Satya considered for a moment. Was this the appropriate moment? Was it even necessary to verbalise her feelings? She wasn’t sure, but decided to continue anyway – she’d already begun, and it would look strange to dismiss the issue abruptly.

“I wanted to apologise – no, perhaps that isn’t right.” She said, more to herself than him.

Lúcio’s brow rose. “For what? We’re all past the Vishkar stuff now, aren’t we?”

“But that’s just the thing.” Satya interrupted. “I’m _not_. Or I wasn’t, anyway. I suppose I just wanted to say that I know it must be frustrating, watching me waver back and forth like this-”

“Yeah, but it isn’t your fault-” He interrupted right back.

“Let me finish, please.” Satya waited until Lúcio had fallen silent, and continued. “Look, I’ve been thinking things through a lot lately, and I know I’ve been denying the obvious. It… it’s because I just couldn’t imagine a life without them, and when you put that with the fact that I’ve been quite unable to believe that they would do such things… well, I can see that it’s obvious now. I’ve been in denial, and I’m sorry.”

Lúcio’s face softened. “Hey, I get that it’s been hard.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Sooo… what are you thinking now?”

Satya shrugged lightly. “I haven’t the faintest idea.” She said, an edge to her voice. “I’ve decided I want to put myself first for once… so I suppose I can start by getting my new arm finished and leaving Vishkar for once and for all. Winston has promised me a place at Overwatch, so… all I have to do is leave.”

Lúcio grinned broadly. “That’s really great, Satya. We’ll get you out, I promise.”

She gave him a smile. “Thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

She left Lúcio not long after and headed to the workshop, where (unfortunately) Brigitte and Torbjörn were having an intense discussion over the best way to weld cracked metal and Satya instantly regretting telling Junkrat to come here. She should have invited him to her room, but well… she thought the implications of that were… a bit much. She greeted the two by the forge and got a brief reply, and then they dived right back into their discussions. She sat at her desk and pulled her blueprints towards her, and let herself get lost in the proposal Vishkar had sent her the other day – it was a potential contract with the government in Oasis, who wanted a new park in the downtown region. Satya hoped very much to win the contract – now she knew she was leaving Vishkar for good, she wanted one last contract, one last design before she did, because at Overwatch… well, she wouldn’t be an architech anymore. Not a proper one. She doubted Winston would be supplying her with contracts for buildings.

No, if she could design one last great thing for Oasis – something everyday citizens could enjoy, she would be happy.

Satya pulled the blueprints of the park towards her and got lost in thought as she examined the sight carefully. The government wanted to demolish the pre-existing buildings on the site and redo it, so that modern architecture could meld with the beautiful gardens there, and provide the public with enjoyable facilities. Satya was thinking of a sort of auditorium, inspired by the amphitheatres of Ancient Rome, which she could place right _here_ , at the base of this grassy knoll, so that when patrons of the park reached the top of the swell it would suddenly flare out to a rolling gentle slope that led the eye down, past this elegant grove of trees and the waterway to a sunken theatre, which could be used for plays, concerts, outdoor lectures from the nearby university and ordinary seating during the day. She nodded to herself, sketching the preliminary designs roughly. She could have the sunken theatre seating covered by a magnificent swooping arched dome, no, a _semi-circular_ dome of transparent hard light, open at the entry to form a sort of mouth… almost like a giant clam shell, but not quite. Utterly engrossed in her design, Satya barely noticed the time passing until the door hissed open and a familiar step- _click_ made her heart jump into her throat.

She lifted her head as Brigitte called out a greeting to Junkrat, and Satya stared at him, wide eyed. He gave her an anticipatory grin which faded slightly when he realised there were two impediments named Brigitte and Torbjörn to their conversation, and he frowned briefly and went to his own workbench.

Satya was nearly vibrating, butterflies swooping madly in her stomach with nerves and she trembled with anticipation, imagining the kiss which was now so close – she had to get him alone somehow. She continued along with her sketch of her Oasis amphitheatre and thought about it furiously. In the end, Junkrat solved her dilemma by heading into the storage room and audibly rifling around in his assorted boxes of spare parts before coming back over to his bench, his arms full of explosive bits and pieces. The storage room – _of course_. Satya smiled to herself, because now she had her location. The storage room had no windows (good for privacy) and when the door was shut, it was soundproof, making it impossible for Torbjörn and Brigitte to hear them ( _very_ good for privacy). She waited a few minutes and then put up her pen and walked nonchalantly towards the storage room, sneaking a peek at Junkrat as she went. He was elbow deep in a very large mine with a pig painted on the casing – evidently, a concussion mine capable of slinging Roadhog into the air – and he stared at her as she passed him by, a question written on his features. She gave him a quiet smile as she passed, and then she was in the storage room and came up with her plan. Hands on her hips, she assessed the space – Junkrat had left his shelves a little untidy but there was nothing to get worked up over, so she quietly picked up random pieces and scattered them across the floor, just in case Torbjörn or Brigitte came to see when she accosted the Junker for his crimes against cleanliness.

Satya then went and stood in the doorway, arranging a severe expression on her face.

“Junkrat.” She called clearly, and all three occupants of the room looked up.

“Yea?” Junkrat replied, his attention mostly on the wire he was threading into the mine.

“I know you are making things but that is _no excuse_ for leaving this kind of mess on the floor.” She said curtly, and Junkrat looked at her properly, his expression befuddled.

“…Mess?” He echoed blankly. “What mess?”

“See, he doesn’t even realise what he’s done, half the time.” Satya said sarcastically to Brigitte, who giggled.

“What have you done this time?” She asked, and Junkrat looked utterly nonplussed.

“Nuthin’ – I haven’t – there’s – what?”

“Don’t think you can talk your way out of this.” Satya said, her voice icy, but inside she was enjoying herself tremendously.

 _“What?”_ Junkrat pulled himself together and pointed a wrench at her. “Oi, I dunno what-”

“Don’t make excuses, Junkrat!” Torbjörn interrupted. “Just go and tidy it up.”

Faced with three identical disapproving expressions, Junkrat stared around at them all with a confused and half offended expression on his face and acquiesced with poor grace, tossing his wrench and half-completed mine onto his bench with a mutter of something dark under his breath. He got up and slouched towards her, and Satya stepped back to allow him through the door. Junkrat stopped dead and stared at the mess scattered across the floor, and after Satya quietly hit the button that would close the door, she eased around him to take in his perplexed expression, and smiled.

“I didn’t – _what?_ How the fuck- _”_ Junkrat kicked at a piece as though to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating; his peg connected with a _thunk_ of metal on metal and sent the casing flying into the wall with more noise. Having confirmed that the mess was real, he turned towards her. “Oi, I didn’t-” He said helplessly. “Sat, I _promise_ I didn’t-”

“I know you didn’t.” Satya said, taking pity on him at last. “I did.” He stared at her, and she shrugged one shoulder. “I had to get you in here somehow.”

Junkrat’s confused expression deepened as he glanced from her to the things on the floor then back to her. “Y’gonna make me clean this up-”

“I’ll help.” Satya smiled at him. “It wouldn’t be very fair, otherwise.”

Junkrat looked mollified at this and then raised a brow. “So, y’gone an’ lured me in here… what for?”

Satya took a deep breath and let herself drift closer to him. “I’m leaving Vishkar.” She blurted, then closed her eyes in annoyance. That hadn’t been how she’d wanted to broach the subject. Opening her eyes, she saw him wearing a slightly puzzled look.

“Yeah, I know-”

“No.” Satya interrupted, and reached out to take his hand. The furrow between his brows deepened as he watched her fingers intertwine with his, and though he didn’t pull away, he didn’t encourage her, either. “Jamie, I’m _leaving Vishkar._ Do you… do you remember what I said in Nepal?”

Junkrat’s gaze flashed to hers, molten and intense. “Yeah.” His voice dropped lower, sending a rush of heat through her. “What in particular, though?”

Her heart was hammering in her chest and Satya resisted the impulse to press her hand to her chest in an attempt to slow the beats. “I said-” She murmured. “-if I left, I’d be able to do what I want. I’ve decided now… I hadn’t before, I was in denial but I see things better now. I’m leaving Vishkar-” She said clearly. “-whether Lúcio’s plan works or not. I’m leaving _no matter what_ , and now I can do-”

“-what _you_ want.” Junkrat said slowly – his expression was enough to make her knees feel weak – hunger warred with excitement as he took a step closer, and Satya’s hands landed on his chest as he towered over her, making her feel incredibly small. Warmth pulsed through her form and she bit her lip to hold back a small noise at the thought of him pressing her down like this, his large form taking what he wanted from her – and she wanted it too. She burned to feel him against her. “What do _you_ want, Satya?”

Her name on his lips, spoken in that slow and hungry way, sent delicious shivers down her spine and Satya drifted even closer, her hips bumping against his as she left her metal hand on his chest but lifted her good hand, trailing her fingers up until they threaded into his hair. Junkrat leaned down at her touch, his hands settling on her hips and sending shocks of warmth through her. The rubber grips on his metal hand caught at the fabric of her blouse as she inhaled slowly, relishing his proximity. “You know what I want.” She breathed, and let her eyes slip shut as they closed the distance between them.

The first brush of his lips against hers was soft, almost hesitant before she pressed herself closer and angled herself towards him, prompting a deep, masculine groan that made fire dance in her belly. Junkrat moved abruptly then, his metal arm wrapping around her lower waist and pulling her tight against him and Satya gasped against his mouth and then her hands were in his hair and she couldn’t breathe but it was the good kind of breathlessness, the kind that made her feel as though she’d never get enough. She kissed him deeply, clinging to him with all the pent-up desire she’d been holding back for so long, and Junkrat groaned against her mouth. Satya whimpered softly as the sound lit the smoulder deep in her belly and then she parted her lips, letting her tongue brush lightly over his lower lip. She felt him smile against her as his own lips parted and then it was fierce, a desperate, grabbing kiss as they clung to each other, breath gasping and hands roaming.

When they parted, Satya refused to let him go – she always had to let him go, but not this time. She pressed against him, closing her eyes with a small sigh of contentment as she burrowed against his chest, her face nestled into the hollow of his throat. Jamison’s hands moved – his good hand sifted into her hair while his prosthetic locked around her waist, holding her firmly against him. And he _was_ Jamison now, she realised with a sense of utter contentment – she’d forced herself to think of him as Junkrat only, to have at least one wall between them, but she didn’t have to do that anymore.

His hand moved, his thumb stroking gently along her jawline and Satya gave a small pleased sigh before pulling back enough that she could see his face. Jamison’s expression was dreamy and content – and a little astonished, like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening, but pleased all the same.

Belatedly, Satya recalled Torbjörn and Brigitte, just in the next room, and felt a sharp prickle of annoyance that they might wonder what exactly she and Jamison were doing locked in the storage room for so long, or worse, they might need to come in. She murmured as much to Jamison, who made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat and lowered his face to her hair. His sharp nose skimmed over her skin and Satya raised her face to him, her lips parting as his mouth settled over hers again. The second kiss was sweeter by far – he touched her tenderly, as though she were some fragile spun glass that might shatter in his hands. Satya didn’t like the thought and she banished it by smearing a moan between them, and Jamison growled low in the depths of his throat and kissed her harder, lighting sparks deep in her belly.

As much as she wanted to kiss him some more (Satya was almost surprised at how much she _did_ want to kiss him, now that all her walls had been reduced to rubble), common sense prevailed and she pulled back reluctantly, citing the two engineers on the other side of the door. Jamison grudgingly released her, and Satya set about straightening herself up. She realised her lipstick was on his mouth and upon informing him of his fact, he set about scrubbing himself clean with an oil rag pulled from his pocket. This did remove the lipstick but also smeared him with grease and she wrinkled her nose at him.

“Now you need a shower.”

Jamison giggled briefly. “Whose fault’s that?” He inquired, and Satya raised a brow and shot a significant look at the oil rag in his hands.

“Yours, of course.” She replied, and bent to peer into a reflective scrap panel of Torbjörn’s so she could check her makeup. Her gaze slid to his reflection and she had to stifle a smile as he opened his mouth to reply and just left it hanging open, entirely distracted as she bent far enough over to use the reflective panel, his gaze firmly centred on a certain part of her anatomy. She’d caught him looking at her ass before, but Satya had never let herself appreciate how it made her feel – his gaze made her feel powerful, desirable, and she was hit by a strong urge to invite him to her room – but no. That would be foolish.

There was obviously strong chemistry between them – a powerful sexual attraction, but all the attraction in the world didn’t necessarily promise a lasting relationship. Satya had been burnt badly in her last relationship and she was determined to take things slowly now, for both their sakes.

She fixed her smudged lipstick and straightened up, turning to face him and concealing a smile as his gaze leapt to her face, a hint of guilt crossing his features as he very clearly wondered if he was allowed to look. She helped him pick up the mess on the floor and then she crossed to her shelf and tugged some blueprint paper loose as an excuse as to why she was in the storage room in the first place, and crossed to stand by the still shut door.

"Hmm." Satya paused at the doorway and looked back. She still couldn’t quite believe that she liked him, this crispy mad bomber, but she did, and it butterflies were flitting about in her stomach at the memory of the kiss. She eyed him briefly, enjoying the look on his face – it was a very needy yet pleased sort of look, like he’d thoroughly enjoyed the kiss but dearly wanted another one, and for a moment she briefly entertained the thought of heading right back over to him, to push him into a chair of her own creation, to straddle his lap and _really_ give him something to smile about. Her thoughts were drawn back to her earlier subject, that it was incredible that she, such a neat, orderly, structured person, could have fallen quite so hard for such a man as Jamison Fawkes. Turning this thought over in her mind, a slight furrow appeared between her brows and she rather unwittingly voiced it aloud, unaware that Jamison could hear her. “This really wasn’t what I… expected."

As she turned and left, Satya didn't see the way Jamison’s expression turned utterly stricken, rapidly chased by a look that was confused, lost, and a bit hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well it's been a while since I updated but I blame uni, but finals are over now and I can focus on writing again 
> 
> satya has finally made her choice, which ought to make jamie happy~
> 
> im well aware miscommunication in fics is super annoying but i promise it's relevant and will lead to a moment that i'd planned since I started writing pretty much but! i've had to change plot around so much my original plan no longer works so we get jamie angsting all over the place instead 
> 
> also moira? ruined everything. that's part of the reason why the update took a while - I have to redo a pretty significant amount of plot. also sanjay's in talon now so that's gonna be fun to edit in


	61. Wretched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Junkrat blows things way out proportion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains a NSFW scene~

Junkrat didn’t know what to think.

This time yesterday, Satya had lured him into the storage room and kissed him senseless. He hadn’t been expecting it in the slightest but had in no way been complaining – until she left.

_This really wasn’t what I… expected._

What the hell had she meant by that?

He’d thought the kiss had been good… hell, he’d thought it was bloody brilliant. She’d sent him straight to cloud nine but then she’d brought his world crashing down with six simple words. Junkrat had been lying awake thinking about it all night, tossing and turning and getting nowhere, and now he was anxious, sleep deprived and grumpy.

Not only that, but as he laid in bed, his stupid overactive imagination had run away with him, constructing a scenario in which Satya had not said _those_ words, but had instead invited him to her room and the whole thing very quickly devolved into a lust filled fantasy in which Satya pushed him against the wall with the hottest kiss he’d experienced in his life before she lowered herself to her knees, her gorgeous golden eyes on his as she undid his zipper to free his erection.

Junkrat groaned softly, his hand firm around his hard cock as in his head, Satya lathered her tongue over the tip of him. _Oh_ _yeah_ – she’d be like that, she’d tease him, sucking lightly, using her tongue, but she’d hold back. She wouldn’t take him into that hot, wet mouth – she’d _torment_ him, teasing until his hands were buried in her hair and he was begging her. She might take pity on him then – his hand sped up around his cock as Junkrat pictured it – Satya taking him into her mouth, just a little at first, but with each pass she’d take another inch until she was taking all of him, her soft lips brushing against coarse hair as she took him down her throat. Maybe she’d moan then, telling him how much she liked it, but her voice would be hard to hear, muffled by cock. The thought both aroused him and stroked his ego, and Junkrat’s breath hissed through his teeth as he inhaled sharply.

It’d get even better then – Satya would draw back completely, leaving him wanting, but then begin to unbutton that stiff white blouse. She’d do it slowly, teasing him, but gradually each button would slip loose to reveal smooth brown skin, and his gaze would be riveted to her tits, cradled in the sexiest lace. _Fuck_ – she might have worn the lingerie _for_ him, showing off her perfect body in erotic silk and lace. Junkrat whimpered slightly, eyes tight shut as he lost himself in his fantasy completely, forcing himself to stroke his cock slowly – as Satya would. She’d remove her bra then, slowly, temptingly, and when he tried to reach for her she’d bat his fingers away with one of those superior little smiles that made his stomach clench and then she’d cup her tits in her hands as she enveloped his cock with them. Titty fucking had always been one of Junkrat’s top three fantasises (and in the Outback, it had been cheaper and easier to wrangle than outright sex) and the idea of Satya doing that for him, her gorgeous tits pressed firmly around his cock, her golden gaze on him as she lathered her tongue over the tip of him with each pass was enough to send him over the edge.

His peak came with a kind of throbbing, fast enough that he wasn’t prepared for it, and he came all over his sheets. Junkrat lay there for a moment, eyes closed and his hand tight around his cock as he panted, and when he felt some semblance of having a spine once more, he sat up and grimaced at the cooling liquid on his bedding. _Damn_ – now he’d have to wash his sheets. Junkrat never objected to grime and mess but sleeping in his own splooge wasn’t a particularly enticing thought. With a sigh and a small lecture to himself (y’got a rag mate, fuckin’ _use_ it) Junkrat got up, a broad grin on his face as he revisited his fantasy, thinking longingly of Satya – until he remembered yesterday’s colossal cock up and the fact that she was surely angry at him. His smile slipped from his face and became a scowl, and Junkrat, always one to be overly dramatic, unconsciously magnified the situation in his own mind until he had convinced himself that he was such a miserable kisser, Satya would utterly _despise_ him now.

Daybreak came and went and as the hours passed, Junkrat was not even remotely in a better mood – he snapped at people when they tried to talk at them, or otherwise blatantly ignored them – after slouching in to get breakfast, his expression black as he crashed around getting his food together, and after witnessing his treatment of those who did try to speak to him, the others more or less left him alone. But because the universe hated his guts, his shitty morning became a shitty afternoon because now he was stuck in a fucking briefing. It’d been going on for two hours now – no, _three_ hours, he noted with a sour glance at the clock. Everyone was stuck in discussion about Doomfist – he’d broken out of prison roughly a fortnight ago, which Junkrat vaguely recalled hearing about at another meeting. He hadn’t really paid much attention after they’d been informed that they weren’t going after Doomfist, for the man had got clean away, aided by Talon. Interpol and other various international agencies were tracking him, or trying to, and Athena had hacked into numerous databases and they were waiting on updates. It was so fucking _boring_ – he hated being stuck in briefings like this.

Junkrat wasn’t even pretending to listen – he was fiddling with half a grenade, slouched in his chair as he slowly pulled the bomb to bits, putting each piece in front of him on the conference table as he fumed inside. He wasn’t angry at Satya – he was furious at the world at large, at bad luck, and at himself. In fact, he was _pissed_ – how the hell could he have fucked everything up _that_ badly? He’d thought it was good – better than good, and he wistfully recalled the look on Satya’s face as she tilted her head up, as though asking him to kiss her. Plainly, she’d wanted to kiss him, and just as plainly, the kiss had been bloody terrible.

He was now starting to _really_ worry about it, about being an awful kisser, and had gone so far as to inquire to Roadhog as to what he should do. Roadie had told him to stop being a wanker, which he supposed wasn’t _bad_ advice, though it wasn’t very good, either. Either way, Satya clearly wouldn’t want to kiss him again, having been so thoroughly disappointed by whatever the hell he’d managed to do that made it so bad in the first place. Now this had happened… now that Satya had decided she didn’t want him now, after _finally_ getting past the roadblocks Vishkar had built between them, well. Junkrat was going to make a very large bomb and cause a very large explosion.

His palms itched with the need to do violence – whether it was punch a wall or somebody else, to rob someone blind or bring down a building or two he didn’t know, but he needed _something_. Focused on his inner thoughts and only continuing the dismemberment of the grenade mechanically, he almost didn’t notice when it disappeared from his hands. Junkrat stared at the empty space for a moment, then lifted his head in time to see 76 toss the grenade into the bin across the room. He made the shot – Junkrat listened to the dull _clunk_ of metal on metal and then shot to his feet, his face twisted by a scowl.

“The _fuck_ was that for?” He snapped loudly, interrupting Winston.

“You’ve been told a million times not to bring explosives to briefings.” 76 snapped right back, and Junkrat bristled.

“‘S not an _explosive_.” He said mockingly, and 76 scowled.

“You don’t call grenades explosive?” 76 mocked him right back and Junkrat clenched his fists, trying to refrain from leaping from the table to sock 76 right in the fucking nose.

“Ain’t finished.” Junkrat ground out. “Not gonna blow up.”

“That doesn’t matter.” 76 glared at him, the ridged scars on his face thrown into harsh definition from the florescent lights. Junkrat glared right back, fists tightly clenched by his side, not even registering the words the former strike commander was hurling at him – rage trembled in his belly and the urge to hit something was strong.

It didn’t help that Satya was seated only a few chairs away; like everyone else in the room, she was watching the conflict between himself and 76, only this time, he _hated_ the fact that she was looking at him. Useless – she must think he was _useless_ , unable to keep his hands to himself and his mind on track, let alone kiss a woman decently. He ground his teeth in fury – everything today was building and getting under his skin, stirring him up. When 76 reached out to drill a finger into his chest, no doubt snarling something stupid, Junkrat reached his boiling point, and snapped. He lashed out savagely, driving his metal fist into 76’s face – the man had great reflexes and managed to dodge most of it, but the blow still clipped his jaw and sent him sprawling, and Junkrat spun on his heel in the same breath and made for the door.

Fuck, _fuck_ – he knew he’d just made a mistake and the fact that he was forced to admit that, even if only to himself, only made him angrier, and the second he was out the door he took off, sprinting to his room as fast as he could, ignoring the shouts behind him. The run helped take some of the fury out, but he was still shaking with rage when he reached his room and locked the door behind him, then shoved his chair against it, his laundry hamper – he even ripped his mini-fridge out from the wall and shoved it up against the door. Junkrat panted from the exertion, looking over his small barricade with satisfaction when he realised the door was an automated _sliding_ door, and shoving junk against it wasn’t gonna do jack shit. He swore furiously and leant on his desk and pushed shaky fingers through his hair in effort to calm down, and when a strand caught in the metal joint of his fingers and was painfully yanked out, he snarled in fury and whirled to punch the wall. The barracks were all military, metal walls and metal floors, and so when he punched it there was no satisfying give-way of plasterboard or timber – instead, there was an ugly sound as his hand impacted on the wall and a dull _crunch_ from inside his prosthetic, and then a sharp pain radiated up his arm.

“ _Fuck’s_ _sake!”_ He bellowed, and sank to the floor to assess the damage. He’d broken his prosthetic – the hard light piece Satya had made him ages ago was intact but the small pieces around it had snapped – he counted three separate parts that would need to be mended or replaced. The sharp pain in his stump hadn’t yet abated and so with a sense of trepidation mixed with gut-wrenching anger, he undid the straps and took his arm off to find that a secondary piece had come lose inside it – the front panel inside the part that attached to his stump. It had come loose with the punch and stabbed deeply into his stump, slicing him open and causing a fair amount of blood to come pouring out when he removed the prosthetic.

It was with a large amount of swearing that Junkrat hurried to his bathroom and jammed the end of his arm under running water in the sink, waiting until the red water ran clear and the cut had congealed to inspect it. It didn’t seem to be deep enough that he should think about going to Mercy or anything, but it was going to hurt when he put his prosthetic back on – not that there was any point, seeing as he’d _broken_ the bastard of a thing. Junkrat ground his teeth, his mood blacker than ever as he stalked back into his room and scooped his prosthetic to his chest.

He talked to himself as he began to examine it closely, scribbling things down in his notebook and marking what needed to be replaced versus what needed to be repaired, keeping up a running commentary the whole time as to what exactly he thought of metal limbs, wounds, 76, and fucking _briefings_. It occurred to him then that Roadhog would be looking for him. Junkrat was not even remotely in the mood – he shoved the shit in front of his door out of the way, scooped up his belongings at once, his notes and his prosthetics and the small pieces he’d already extracted, and clutching them precariously to his chest with his one good hand, he made his way to the workshop.

He found Brigitte in there, hammering away at something – as she wasn’t an agent nor did she go on missions, she didn’t have to go to the briefings, lucky bastard that she was – and when he overbalanced and dropped everything he was carrying to clatter on the floor with a curse that singed the hair off his arse, she looked up and came to help. Within a few moments she’d had everything picked up and placed on his bench for him, and had paper and pen in hand, peering thoughtfully into the depths of his prosthetic, offering her advice and help with the fixing.

Junkrat accepted her help and when Satya came in an hour later, together with Torbjörn and Roadhog, the latter of whom came over to bug him, he ignored all three of them, and continued working with Brigitte. She had a number of very clever automated tools that made shit way easier than what he’d put up with when he’d originally made his arm in the Outback, and she was walking him through their usage, and they’d already crafted one perfect replacement for a piece that had cracked neatly through the middle. It wasn’t as fast nor as perfectly precise as hard light, and Junkrat was doing his best to keep his mind off hard light _and_ the architech who had made it, though he couldn’t exactly _not_ see the piece that was already in his arm. He glowered at it every time he noticed it, and he’d seen Brigitte’s brows raise when she took in the gleaming, obviously hard light piece nestled amongst the worn metal, looking as out of place as a bogan in Buckingham Palace. She hadn’t mentioned it, thank fuck, and though he’d recognised that she was waiting for him to broach the subject and explain how he’d gotten Satya to make him a part for his arm, he’d kept mulishly silent, and Brigitte hadn’t brought it up.

He could see Satya out of the corner of his eye – she was sitting at her bench working on her blueprints, now and then lifting her hands to form some miniature building as though checking to see if she liked her plans. Whatever she was building, it looked like a graceful clam shell, and Junkrat frowned and put her out of his mind. Or tried to.

He _wouldn’t_ ask her for help. He was upset, confused, hurt and angry, and his pride had been most severely injured, to the point where he’d die in his blood before he went to her. It may have been foolish – it probably was – but Junkrat was stubborn, and if she felt that things had gone rubbish enough between them to say what she’d said, then he wasn’t going to be the one to go crawling on his knees back to her.

There was one small impediment to this – he couldn’t stop looking at her. Junkrat told himself not to and indeed, he snatched his gaze from her whenever he caught himself, but he kept looking all the same. It was during one of these lapses that made his heart fall down to his toes, because she was looking back. Satya had her hands raised, blue light weaving from her fingertips, and she’d swivelled around in her chair to give herself more room. Her eyes met his across the room and his breath caught, and then her expression changed. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth thinned, and when she turned her back on him, his heart broke.

Junkrat jerked his gaze back to his prosthetic hand with a curse mumbled under his breath, rubbing absently at the stump of his arm while Brigitte used her two good hands to reattach a loose bolt. Dejected and utterly crushed by Satya’s reaction, Junkrat didn’t realise in the slightest that it hadn’t been her newfound dislike of him that had made her look so; it had been his own black glare that had made her turn from him. Junkrat could not be said to be a man who picked up on the subtleties present on most occasions, and this was one of those times.

He absolutely refused to look at Satya again – why would he give her that satisfaction? Junkrat drowned in his misery, wallowing in anger and hurt, to the point where Brigitte asked him quietly what was wrong, but he brushed her off. If Satya wanted to play that way, so be it. He wasn’t going to crawl to her when he hadn’t done anything wrong! If she wanted to make up, let _her_ come to _him_.

He wanted her to so badly it hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but sweet lmao, something of a filler chapter before ch 62, which is gonna be fun :) 
> 
> in this one, we find exactly how badly jamie can fuck up a situation
> 
> (also you can bet your ass jack will be out for junker blood once angie's fixed him up. will he succeed in disciplining jamie? wait till 62 to find out)


	62. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a mission to Ilios goes horribly wrong

It was raining.

To be more accurate, it was storming and the weather was hellish, not at all like the picturesque images on the postcards. Satya paused on her rounds and stared out over the rough sea, which crashed wildly against the shore, urged on by the strong winds.

They were in Ilios, Greece. They’d arrived the day before, for Athena had intercepted rumours that Talon was snuffling about the ancient ruins that lay on the outskirts of the town – and Doomfist had been sighted. There was an archaeological dig going on currently, though the rain had suspended their most recent efforts, to the annoyance of the attending archaeologists. They were jumpy and nervous, for Talon had made three attempts thus far to raid the site, and they had succeeded in stealing several artefacts. Why Talon was stealing ancient Greek artefacts no one knew, but Winston and Morrison had decided that they should fly to Ilios immediately, to prevent any more thefts – and if they should run into Doomfist, so much the better.

Satya didn’t like it at all. If Talon was here than it was very likely that their more prominent members were too. Widowmaker, Doomfist. Reaper. She didn’t particularly want to run into the latter again. Still, orders were orders, and hers were, like most of the others, to patrol the town and report anything odd. It was almost time for her shift to finish, she thought with a wistful glance into the upper left-hand corner of her visor, where the time was displayed, invisible to everyone but her. It was half-past four in the morning and she was tired, but when her shift finished (in roughly twenty-five minutes, thank the gods), she would return to their base and her rounds would be taken over by Mei, who was currently sleeping.

She had her mechanical hand held over her head, a hard light shield suspended over the top of her, keeping off the rain. She’d made it transparent and therefore utterly invisible in the dark of night, and it was only the fact that she was mostly dry that made these rounds bearable. Her territory crossed paths with McCree’s – she’d run into him once or twice, wearing an irritable look and soaked to the skin. Satya sighed slightly, feeling the now familiar pang behind her breastbone that occurred every so often – she’d managed to distract herself thus far, but now, with the rain a heavy tempo on the streets around her, her thoughts drifted back to Jamison.

She didn’t understand what had gone wrong.

She’d thought he’d been happy to kiss her – he’d certainly _looked_ it. It made her feel sick with worry and anguish to think about it – to recall how he’d kissed her so passionately and held her so tenderly, looking so pleased it hurt. But then the next day he’d looked at her first with confusion and then displeasure, and she had watched, bewildered, as his mood blackened further and he’d punched Morrison before storming out of the briefing, therefore missing the announcement that they were going to Ilios, and then later in the workshop, where she had wanted so badly to talk to him but had been prevented by the presence of so many others, he’d looked at her with – not hatred. She didn’t think it was that. But it had been a black glare, a glowering look that made her feel as though she’d done something terribly wrong.

Satya hadn’t been able to speak to him yet, though she was dying to try. She took a deep breath and held it in for a moment, then sighed deeply, wondering if this was some sort of cruel joke. To be finally free of Vishkar’s influence (sort of) and take her own life in her hands by choosing to be with him, only to have him turn away…

Morrison had been utterly furious with Jamison. Mercy had soothed him, however, and dissuaded him from going after Jamison, for she knew what Morrison was too angry to see – that Jamison was in a terrible mood, and when added to his authority problems, further confrontation would only end badly. Morrison’s jaw had ended up bruised and he had a split lip, and so the meeting had been adjourned briefly whilst Mercy whisked the old strike commander off to the medibay to heal his injuries, and when they’d returned, they’d all been informed about Ilios.

Later that day, Satya had gone to find Hanzo – he’d asked her if she wanted to come and drink tea with him, which she did. They’d made a sort of ritual of it – they wouldn’t simply fill a cup with a bag and hot water, like tea was generally made on base. They took turns – one week, they would have a Japanese tea ceremony on the grassed area by the cliffs, and the next week, Satya would prepare her favourite Indian blends. This week had been Hanzo’s, and so all Satya had had to do was arrive in the kitchen and help him carry their supplies to the lawn. On the way, however, she had begun to detect shouting.

Having arrived in the kitchen, she had found Hanzo just finishing the act of placing their tea things on a tray. Upon asking him what was going on, Satya was informed that Jamison and Morrison were having the screaming match of the century. It seemed that despite a respite of several hours, Morrison had, at length, overpowered any attempts to dissuade him and had gone in search of Jamison. Having sniffed out the Junker, he’d proceeded to pick a fight. Hanzo knew the gist of things – Morrison wanted Jamison reprimanded for assaulting a senior officer, and Jamison had told him to go fuck himself in increasingly creative ways.

It had come to a boiling point when an enraged Jamison had lost his head all together and hurled a grenade at Morrison – fortunately, the man had thrown himself out of harm’s way (if you didn’t count minor burns and singed clothes), though the rec room now sported a large roped off area, needed a new tv, and smelt very strongly of smoke.

Winston had been supremely displeased by this destruction, but all those in positions of authority were at a loss to how, exactly, one was supposed to discipline a Junker. Finally, Roadhog had been summoned and his advice followed. Jamison was not to be yelled at, nor was his personal space to be encroached upon – instead, Roadhog would dole out punishment in his own way, for Jamison respected Roadhog enough to listen to him, much to Morrison’s disgust.

They’d decided Jamison shouldn’t be banned from the Ilios mission, for which Satya was glad. She’d heard him complaining to Roadhog about it later on, trying to explain how it was all Morrison’s fault and if the old strike commander got him banned from active duty, he was not going to be happy. Of course, Jamison was able to operate under considerable leeway – no other agent would be able to behave as he had and get away with such a light punishment – it was all down to his being a volatile Junker with a strong hatred of authority. Winston had recognised this quite a while ago, and now the only thing to do was convince Morrison of this, for the man was too military to recognise that some people simply _couldn’t_ fit into the mould of a soldier.

Jamison had arrived at the dropship only a little late, with all his explosives packed away, and had slunk on board with a dour expression on his face. Satya had caught him looking at her a few times, and though she would have gladly smiled, she had remained too confused at the abrupt change in his behaviour to do so, and in any case, _he_ hadn’t smiled at her. He’d only scowled.

Dragging her attention back to the streets of Ilios, she turned a corner and spied a figure; Satya tensed until she recognised Mercy, and lifted a hand in answer to the other woman’s wave. They met beneath a balcony and Satya let her shield fade out of existence – Mercy, on the other hand, was soaked, her hair plastered her head.

“Oh, I want something like that.” She sighed enviously, with a longing glance at Satya’s prosthetic, before she smiled. “How are your rounds going?”

“Good.” Satya motioned back towards her route. “There’s been nothing untoward so far as I can tell.”

“Me neither.” Mercy squinted at the sky, raising her voice slightly as the rain picked up, so she could be heard over the patter of water on the cobbles. “ _Mein Gott_ , I wish this rain had waited!”

“So do I.” Satya looked about again. “I hope it hasn’t impeded anyone’s ability to perform their duties correctly.”

Mercy hummed in agreement, then turned to look back the way she had come. “We’d best get on.” She said apologetically. “Jack will have a fit if he catches any of us slacking off.”

“Of course.” Satya raised her shield above her head and gave the doctor a smile. “I’ll see you later, Angela.”

“Bye, Satya!” Mercy ducked off into the rain and Satya turned back to her own route, meandering down through the rain soaked streets, keeping an eye out for anything strange.

 All at once, a gunshot shattered the stillness of the night air, and Satya froze. She threw herself backwards against the wall, waiting with wide eyes, and – more gunshots, rapid fire, and more than one shooter. She tried to work out the direction they were coming from, and then her comms beeped and Morrison’s voice sounded in her ear.

“Attention all!” He bawled, gunshots loud behind his voice. “Talon has engaged the southwest quadrant of the town, repeat, Talon has engaged-” The rest of his message was cut off amid copious gunfire, and then Winston came on the comms to tell all active agents to converge on and engage Talon, giving Morrison’s exact coordinates. Satya was off and running in an instant, ducking around walls and keeping to the shadows, splashing through puddles as she headed towards Morrison’s location, which she’d brought up on the map visible on her visor. More gunfire echoed in the rain, and the dim yells of combatants were interspersed with the screams of the residents of Ilios, woken from a peaceful sleep. An explosion echoed to the right of her and Satya pressed in against the wall, eyes wide, though when no shrapnel came shrieking through the air to wound her, she pressed on.

The first Talon agent she encountered had his back to her, and she incapacitated him in a moment, using her photon projector to drain his consciousness, taking his firearms and hiding them in a nearby bush, then pressing on, leaving his unconscious form on the ground behind her. The second two terrorists saw her, and opened fire. Satya extended her shield to encompass her entire body and gritted her teeth as bullets thudded into the hard light surrounding her, and just as she lifted her photon projector, a grenade landed on their balcony and blew them to smithereens.

Satya stared uncomprehendingly for a moment, her shield winking out as she forgot to pay attention to it. In the next moment, a tall figure dropped from a great height and landed next to her, slinging an arm about her waist as they tugged them both into the wall, beneath a small balcony that shielded them from the rain.

“Jamison!” Satya said rather stupidly, realising who it was, and then she bit down hard on her lower lip, because it was _Jamison_.

“Y’okay?” He asked roughly, gaze running sharply over her form. “They didn’t getcha?”

Satya slowly shook her head, trying to absorb everything in front of her. Jamison was utterly soaked, his wet hair flopping in his eyes as he glared about, as though daring other Talon agents to appear. A drop of water rolled to the end of his nose and without even realising it she lifted her hand to wipe it away, and stilled when he stiffened.

Jamison’s gaze ran over her again but this time, there was a serious undercurrent to him, as though he’d been threaded through with a live wire. His jaw tensed and trembled and the look in his eyes was intense and almost wild.

“Look, Satya-” The words tumbled out of him as though he could no longer hold them back. “I dunno what I did an’ if I fucked it all up I’m sorry, okay? I wanna – I wanna – c’mon, tell me what I did, tell me what’d I do t’fuck up do bad? I wanna fix it-”

Satya listened to this extraordinary speech in astonishment, and stopped him there. “Fix what?” She asked cautiously, and he closed his eyes and made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. By this time, both of them were utterly oblivious to the gunfire echoing around them.

Jamison stopped and stared at her for a moment, before he licked his lips and spoke, his voice hoarse. “The – the other day. In the storage room.” He stopped and watched her closely, sounding a little uncertain now. “Y’said – y’said it wasn’t any good and _fuck_ , Sat, I didn’t mean it, gimme another chance, ay?” There was desperation in his tone and Satya stared at him for a long moment. “Gimme another shot. C’mon Sat, please-”

“Jamie.” She interrupted. “Do you…” She had a sudden horrifying thought, thinking that maybe all this could simply be a _misunderstanding_. Abruptly everything made sense and she smiled with the sheer relief of it, making his brows draw together in confusion, before words burst out of him once more.

“Look, I know y’said it was bad an’ maybe it was, I dunno, maybe I _was_ off m’fuckin’ game but that was just a one time thing, y’know? I can do better, I-”

“ _Jamie_.” Satya reached up, laying her fingers over his lips to silence him. “What are you talking about?”

Jamison’s lips parted in shock beneath her touch and he stared at her, unmoving and obviously confused, and so Satya took matters into her own hands, in an attempt to show him that whatever had gone wrong between them, it didn’t matter on her side. She slid her hand to his neck and tugged him down a little more, and came up on her toes so she could press her mouth to his. He tasted of rainwater and salt, and smoky male. He made a muffled noise of shock and came to life in an instant, his arms locking around her waist as he pressed her back against the wall, and in that moment, he was the only thing that existed in her world. Despite his eager reciprocation, Jamison broke the kiss first, pulling back to stare at her, his expression confused.

“Wait, Sat – y’didn’t… what? But-”

Satya stared up at him. “What are you talking about? Did I say something to make you think-”

“Y’ _said_ it wasn’t what y’expected.” He said with a narrow-eyed glance, and Satya furrowed her brow.

“What? I didn’t…” She trailed off as she recalled the moments just after she had kissed him in the storage room, and her mouth became round with horror and realisation. Satya’s heart shattered when she took in the look on his face and realised just how deeply he had taken her off-hand words to heart.

Jamison’s brows beetled as he stared down at her, and he licked an errant drop of water from his lips. “Y’didn’t mean it?” He sounded half scared, half hopeful. “If y’didn’t mean that, then what-?”

“That’s what you’ve been thinking?” She breathed, drawing him closer to her. His hips were flush with hers and though she’d much prefer if they didn’t have grenades sandwiched between them, the contact was exquisite, if damp. “I thought _I_ had done something wrong. In the workshop… you looked so angry.”

He muffled a humourless laugh in her hair. “Was pissed at m’self.” He mumbled. “Not you. Thought _you_ were pissed at _me_.”

“But why would I be angry with you?” Satya asked in open astonishment. “ _I_ kissed _you_.”

Jamison stared at her for a long moment, abruptly looking discomforted. “Uh, well, I mean-” He mumbled something under his breath for a moment. “Y’know. Thought maybe it’d been… rubbish.”

_Oh._

“You thought…”

Jamison laughed nervously and hid his face in her hair. “Well, y’did say it roight after… not sure what other interpretations there are, t’be honest.”

“You thought it was a terrible kiss.” She stated quietly, and he made a noise of frustration, still hiding in her hair.

“Nah, _I_ thought it was bloody brilliant. _You_ said it was fuckin’ awful.”

Satya bit her lip and drew him close. “Jamie…” She breathed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you’d heard me, much less what I’d implied.”

“Mm?” Jamison made an interrogative sound from somewhere beneath her hair. “Whadidja mean, then? ‘Cause I can’t see what else you’d mean-”

Satya let her hand thread gently through his hair, smiling slightly at the shiver which crawled over his skin. “I was talking to myself, not you. I’d just been thinking about how, if you’d told me six months ago that I would want to kiss _you_ , of all people, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“Oh.” Jamison pulled back to stare at her. “ _Oh_.” A slight grin hitched the corner of his mouth up. “So… y’didn’t think it was bad?”

“No.” Satya said with a slight laugh. “The opposite, in fact.”

Jamison’s eyes darkened as he looked at her. “Yeah?” He asked quietly, threading his fingers through her hair. “That’s good.”

He bent to kiss her again and just as his lips brushed hers an explosion echoed in the distance, and Jamison sprang upright, glaring into the coming dawn in an attempt to figure out what was happening.

“Someone’s blowing things up without you.” Satya murmured, having realised that she was kissing him in the midst of a gun fight, and he laughed.

“Bastards.”

“I’m not sure this is the best time… what if we postpone this conversation until Talon’s been dealt with?” Satya suggested, and he grinned.

“Sounds like a plan.” Jamison released her entirely, his expression a little reluctant. “Be careful, ay?”

“I’m always careful.” Satya replied. “ _You_ be careful.”

Jamison giggled. “Can’t make no promises, love.”

He ducked in to give her one last hot, damp kiss that made her want to cling to him despite his soaked form, but then Jamison turned and scurried off into the rain and was gone from sight, and Satya shook herself slightly before she raised a shield over her head and continued on the path she’d originally been going along. She’d let herself be distracted by him – she really shouldn’t have. There were active shooters present – it had been foolish. A slight smile turned her lips as she revisited their hurried conversation – it had only been a misunderstanding. He wasn’t _actually_ angry at her. It had all been a mistake.

To her left a shot was fired and Satya immediately pushed Jamison out of her mind and hurled up a shield around Hanzo as he threw himself flat. He leapt to his feet and fell back to her position as Satya peered around the corner through her shield, trying to identify their assailant.

“What a time to pick.” Hanzo grunted, nocking an arrow as he eyed his target. “It’s _raining_. You’d think they wouldn’t _want_ to be out in this weather.”

“They’ll only be doing it to spite us.” Satya replied, then eyed Hanzo worriedly. “You’re unharmed?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Hanzo loosed his arrow and there came a choked scream from the distance. Satya winced. “Come. We should find the others. I think McCree has-”

More gunfire cut him off and then Ana came on the comms, letting them know that she had just spotted Doomfist, but had lost visuals. This mission just became a lot more dangerous.

Satya and Hanzo met up with McCree and Hana soon thereafter, and then, when they were set upon by a large knot of Talon operatives, they scattered. Satya ran headlong down an alleyway and up a flight of stairs towards a higher terrace, footsteps muffled by the rain. She had thought the others were behind her but when she turned she found no one there but herself. Satya narrowed her eyes against the explosions she could hear in the distance, and the gunfire and screaming laid beneath. At least Jamison seemed to be enjoying himself – his mad cackle tapered off somewhere to her right, but she ignored him for the moment. Where had Hanzo, McCree and Hana gone? She hoped they were safe, and decided to try and find someone to link up with. With Doomfist running about (and possibly Reaper as well, which made her uneasy), she didn’t particularly want to be alone.

Satya picked her way along the terrace, for dawn was well on her way and visibility was much improved. While this was good, as it enabled to see the Talon agents in their dark tactical clothing, it also let them see her. Reaching the edge of the terrace, Satya crafted a ladder and climbed to the roof, the better to see her surroundings, take stock of the situation, and decide on her next course of action.

On the roof, she tensed, having spotted a Talon agent lining up a shot – the man’s back was to her, and it couldn’t have been more perfect if she’d tried. Satya lifted her photon projector and left the man unconscious before he realised what had happened, his shot left unfired.

Hearing shouts, Satya crept to the other side of the roof and peered down, her arm held absently over her head to keep the rain off; there, on a lower terrace, Jamison, Hanzo and Mei were standing back to back, forming a tight triangle of defence. They looked wary, clearly expecting some sort of attack – something was there, stalking them. Satya clung to the edge of the roof, peering cautiously over, attempting to locate the threat. It was possible that she could take whatever it was by surprise, without giving away her strategic location.

It happened too fast for her to react.

It played out as though it were a movie, right in front of her horrified eyes; the building closest to them, a large, multistorey structure, shuddered and abruptly collapsed, burying the three agents below before they had time to move.

Satya cried out in horror as she watched the building collapse; she drew her hands up, frantically spinning a shield to throw at the three of them, but they disappeared before she could finish it. Hanzo screamed something in Japanese and a vivid blue glow erupted around him as he vanished from view, buried in a veritable landslide, and Satya could scarcely breathe as she watched Jamison throw himself towards Mei as she fired a blast of ice and then they were both swallowed by the cascading rubble. For a second she remained utterly frozen, unable to move, and then movement caught her eye.

From the ruins of the former building stepped a massively powerful man, a flash of lightning glinting off his bald head as he shook water from the enormous robotic arm he wielded.

 _Doomfist_.

He gave a satisfied chuckle at the settling dust, then turned and left. Satya choked on her fear as she scrambled to her feet, crafting a slide from which she launched herself, desperate to get down to the ground.

 _Oh Gods, Jamie! No, not Jamie. And Mei and Hanzo_ – panic made her oblivious to her surroundings, and as Satya hit the upper terrace and lifted her hand to her comms, to alert everyone to what had just happened, she fell.

She hit the ground hard and rolled, her photon projector falling from her grasp and sliding across the wet pavement. Satya curled around her leg with a groan, clutching her upper thigh as she realised two things in quick succussion. The first was that she had been stabbed through the thigh with some sort of red hot wire. Her second, slightly more logical conclusion, was that she had been shot. Her leg had given way beneath her, and Satya pushed herself up, pressing her hands to the wound as blood welled over her fingers. Rain poured down her face and into her eyes and she squinted through the water – she no longer had her shield up and cold water soaked through her clothes and ran over her heated flesh.

She looked up at the sound of footsteps, feeling as though things were happening much too fast for her to comprehend, and saw a Talon agent step from the shadows, his gun aimed at her head. She had never been shot before, she noted absently. It was simultaneously better and worse than she’d imagined. Satya panted slightly, mouth dry, then realised she was unarmed. Glancing around, she saw her photon projector, several metres away and therefore useless. By now whimpering from the pain, she dragged her shaking hands from her leg and tried crafting a shield, but hard light required clarity of mind, and with the pain she was experiencing (as well as the rapid onset of shock), she couldn’t manage it. Light flared and shattered again and again, and then with a wail of pain and frustration she abandoned her attempts and wrapped her hands around her leg once more, curling up in the rain with a sense of increasing desperation.

“-on the terrace.” Satya tuned into the Talon agent’s words with dull understanding, and then she registered that he was talking into his comms. “Blue outfit, visor, white arm. Indian looking. Sound familiar-? Right. Sure thing, boss.” The man paused to leer at her through the drops of water rolling over his face. He had an American accent. “My boss wants a word with you. Says you left your bill unpaid in London and he’s comin’ to collect.” Satya realised what he meant with dim horror – _Reaper_. He was calling Reaper to their location… and she was utterly unable to defend herself. The agent pulled out a small device and glanced at it before speaking into his comms once more. “Y’there boss? I’ve got her at-”

Satya watched uncomprehendingly as there came a loud _crack_ and the man abruptly slumped to the ground, head cracking on the wet pavement. She noted the blood swirling into the puddled water under him and saw the gunshot wound to his temple just as McCree came charging into view, water pouring off the brim of his hat. He grabbed the small device, glanced at it, then crushed it viciously underfoot, along with the man’s comms. He then fell to his knees beside her with a splash, and Satya choked back a relieved sob as she reached for him.

“ _Shit_ , Satya-”

 At the speed of light, he reached into one of the myriad of pouches at his waist and pulled out a damp bandage, which he wrapped swiftly around her thigh, all the while keeping up a running stream of commentary.

“ _Hey_ , Satya, don’t cry. I know, it hurts like a bitch, but don’t worry, we’ll getcha to Angie-”

“No!” Satya burst out, and McCree paused in the midst of retrieving her photon projector.

“No? What-”

“No, she’s busy!” Satya cried, the magnitude of what Doomfist had done overriding the pain and shock of being shot. “She _will_ be busy – Jesse! Mei, Junkrat, Hanzo – they’re trapped! We have to get down there!”

McCree paused, his face abruptly serious. “ _Trapped?”_ He said urgently. “Where? What’s happened?”

Satya tipped her head to the side to indicate where the rubble lay. “Doomfist.” She explained, her words harried and disjointed. “The building! He demolished it – they were crushed. That man, he shot me before I could call it in.”

McCree swore, very loudly and very creatively as he lurched to his feet to confirm the collapsed building with his own eyes, and then he was on the comms, rattling off what had happened along with coordinates in a burst of machine-gun speech. Then, he was turning, bending down with his arms outstretched.

“C’mon darlin’, we’re meetin’ the others down there. It’s gonna hurt but I’m gonna carry you, alright?”

Satya nodded her consent and so he scooped her into his arms. She made an involuntary strangled gasp of pain and McCree groaned in sympathy.

“I know, darlin’. Hurts like a bitch. Just hang on.”

As Satya couldn’t utilise her hard light to make ramps and stairs, McCree was forced to go the long way around, splashing through puddles as he searched for more stairs to take them to the lower levels and the collapsed building. She was forced more than once to wrap her arms around his neck and hold her own weight as he released her with one arm so he could shoot, but finally they burst into the courtyard to find Reinhardt already atop the rubble, bodily hurling massive chunks away from him as he dug, the grim set of his mouth illuminated by flashes of lightning.

McCree set her down in the cover of an awning and, after checking her bandage, dashed off through the rain to help the rescue party. Everyone else flooded in gradually, Mercy arriving not two seconds before there came a loud cry and Reinhardt fell back as two glowing dragons erupted from the rubble, revealing Hanzo curled up beneath them. Satya stared at them uncomprehendingly for a long moment, the sight of them illuminating the dark as rain poured down around them nothing short of awe-inspiring, and she licked water from her lips in confusion. The dragons hovered above as Reinhardt gingerly plucked Hanzo at Mercy’s direction from the rubble and carried him to a more stable surface, and then they faded from a faint blue glow until there was nothing left at all.

Satya watched anxiously, not worried in the slightest that she wasn’t receiving medical care – it was of the utmost importance that Mercy treated the three trapped beneath the rubble first. She could hear snippets of conversation, and strained to hear more – Hanzo was alive though with minor injuries, protected from death by his dragons, and relief hit her like a punch to the gut… though they hadn’t yet found Jamison or Mei.

Satya was beginning to become aware of her own light-headedness as shots came and McCree threw himself to the ground and came up from his roll firing, and took down the four rooftop snipers in an instant. She closed her eyes, sweat beading on her brow, fresh blood slippery on her hands and sticky on her thighs. The sound of a body hitting the ground next to her made her open her eyes and Satya realised Lúcio had just thrown himself to his knees beside her.

“Satya!” He said urgently, spraying her with drops of cold water as he pressed his fingers roughly to the pulse at her throat before he peeled back her bandage to assess the damage. “Can you hear me? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

She shook her head weakly and he primed his sonic amplifier.

“It’s not as good as what Angie could do.” He said almost apologetically. “But it’ll stop you bleeding out.”

Behind him, Satya noticed Roadhog charge around a corner, making a beeline for the rubble before he began to dig, showering enormous clumps of stone behind him like paper. The sonic amplifier activated then, bathing her in a golden glow. Satya gritted her teeth as the pain intensified for a moment, then abruptly faded. Looking down, she saw that the bleeding had stopped, though the wound was far from healed – it had the appearance of a fresh, ugly scar.

“Mercy’ll fix it.” Lúcio said, laying his hand over hers. “When she can. I-” He broke off and muttered something savagely in Portuguese as Mercy all but screamed his name and he was gone, rushing to assist her.

Another shout went up – _Jamison_. Or Mei? Satya sat up straighter and then recoiled from the sharp pain that stabbed through her thigh as Roadhog gently lifted a broken, bloody body from the rubble as shards of shattered ice fell to the ground with a musical chime over the steadily beating rain. Reinhardt then lifted Mei, who was conscious – plainly injured, but conscious, babbling something and clearly in shock.

Mercy abandoned Hanzo to Lúcio and flew to Jamison, and Satya watched, barely breathing, her heart in her mouth, as Mercy rifled through her medical bag at top speed, checking him over as Ana came sprinting in, rifle strapped to her back and grim lines bracketing her mouth. Pharah blasted overhead as she did so, and Satya watched numbly as the rocket suit fired a series of blasts towards one target, then swooped and evaded a shot before neatly taking her assailant out. Pharah was working double-time to keep the heat off them while they tried to save the buried trio. 

Ana dropped to her knees besides Jamison, on the other side of his body, and despite the pouring rain, Satya couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was so _still_ – and his body looked so warped… so _wrong_.

 _“Mein Gott!”_ Mercy’s cry was horrified, and Satya’s stomach lurched as she watched Mercy peel Jamison’s scalp away from his head, the white gleam of bone clearly visible in the instant before the doctor pressed skin and hair back over his skull and ripped open a pack of bandages, which she relinquished to Ana to wrap round his head, while Mercy fell back to his torso, which hurt Satya to the soul to look at. She didn’t want to imagine what had happened to him, but her mind kept providing her with the most awful assumptions – his lower left leg was a bloodied smear presided over by Roadhog, who’d grabbed the serape McCree had thrown at them and wrapped it round the limb in an attempt to slow the bleeding until Mercy could get to it.

Water ran in rivulets over the leather of his mask as Roadhog lifted his head and his gaze met hers, and Satya knew he could see the anguish in her face before he turned his attention back to the broken body at his feet.

A flash of lightning illuminated them all briefly and Satya took in the sight of Jamison’s good arm, resting at an impossible angle, and her stomach clenched. _Oh Gods – how can they save him?_ Satya clamped her eyes shut and began to pray, fingers digging painfully into her thighs – and then she pulled Jamison’s patch from her pocket and held it tight, her thumb running over the embossed smiley stitched into the warm canvas, and she commended his soul to the gods, and prayed for his deliverance.

To the left of her, Reinhardt was talking to McCree, in a momentary reprieve, taking about Doomfist. "Some should stay to fight." Reinhardt was saying, and McCree was nodding in agreement, the lines of his face set with anger and worry. 

"No." 

That was Morrison, who hurried over, tension radiating from every inch of his form. "We've lost too many people already. Greece's military is nearly here, and they'll take over. If we evac but leave half of you behind, that'll be half who're stuck in poor visibility with no doctor and no chance of evac for hours. This fight's over the moment the ship lands." 

Satya took her eyes from Jamison for second, as gunfire echoed Morrison's words. Reinhardt, large and exposed, was the target, and he flung up a shield which McCree and Morrison dove behind, before the three of them charged their assailant. 

 “He’s stopped breathing – start CPR!” Mercy’s voice cut through her like a knife and Satya jerked her head back to Jamison's limp form, her mouth moving in a wordless prayer.

Behind them, Genji came leaping off a building to land beside his brother, being treated by Lúcio, and Zenyatta zoomed across the courtyard to come to Mei’s aid, but Satya only had eyes for Jamison. A pained whine escaped her throat as she watched Ana breathe for him while Mercy injected his arm with something, and then Ana pulled back and shook her head, water cascading over her face.

“Hurry, Angela! His right lung’s collapsed. I can’t keep this up for long.” She got out grimly, and though she was far away her words carried to Satya as though she’d screamed them. Satya watched in abject horror as Ana didn’t bother to wait for Mercy’s staff – she pulled a knife and a straw from her own food pack and finding a spot over his lungs, stabbed the blade deeply into his chest. Satya gasped and dread gripped her as blood welled and Ana forced the straw into a lung, but then hope lifted her up as Jamison’s body jerked, and the thin, bloodied chest rose in a gasp.

Satya dug her fingers into the ground, teeth clenched and tears gathering in her eyes as Mercy checked the straw. “It’ll have to do.” She spat grimly, not even bothering to wipe the water running over her face. “We need him on life support.” She said, adjusting her golden glow at the speed of light as it immersed Jamison. “Keep him from being brain damaged – where the _hell_ is the dropship? _Jack!”_ She screamed. “We need an _immediate_ extraction!”

“It’s coming!” Morrison yelled from his position next to Mei, where he was helping Zenyatta with her bloodied arm – Satya wasn’t sure what injuries Mei had, though she was sitting up and conscious. “Lena’s on her way!”

“Tell her to get here faster!” Mercy yelled loudly, before she and Ana both gasped and fell back to Jamison – Satya could see him convulsing, but didn’t know what was happening to him – she couldn’t hear what they were saying. The thought that he was going to die – _right there in front of her eyes_ – burned through her, and she felt like she was going to be sick.

“No!” She whimpered, taking in a harsh, shuddering breath as Mercy shook her head, her staff a golden glow through the pouring rain. To Satya, that seemed to confirm that it was hopeless – that Jamison couldn’t be saved.

 _No_.

Satya could stand no more, and she tore her visor off and clapped her filthy, bloody hands over her ears. Jamison was gone. He was _dead_.

Satya closed her eyes, and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im mean to my children :)
> 
> (bonus points to anyone who has figured out how talon keeps showing up in places where they aren't supposed to be)


	63. By Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat wakes up in the medibay

He awoke to find an angel peering down at him. He blinked once, drowsily, and then the angel moved and he rather belatedly realised it wasn’t an angel at all, merely a blonde woman with her hair all lit up and glowing from the lights behind her.

He attempted to comment on this but his tongue didn’t seem to want to cooperate and the best he could manage was a mumbled ‘gnuhh’. The blonde woman stopped what she was doing to look at him, then.

“Junkrat?”

That word sounded familiar. He blinked and the woman slid out of focus for a moment. “Geh?”

“Junkrat.” She had an authoritative tone, so he listened. “Can you understand me? Don’t try to talk. Junkrat, I know how strange this must be, but please, stay calm. You’re in the medibay. You were injured. Try not to move, you’ve been in an induced coma.”

He blinked again, and set his dazed mind to thinking. Junkrat. Junkrat? That was – oh yeah, that’s what he called himself, wasn’t it? Junkrat looked around a little, noting the clean, sterile environment. Medibay, that’s right.

“In – injrged?” He managed, and the woman – _Mercy_ – her name swam to the forefront of his mind and he grasped at it, pleased at the recollection.

“Injured, yes.” Mercy stopped what she was doing and bent over him – Junkrat realised he was lying down, on a bed or something. She shone a small, irritating light in his eyes and checked his blood pressure, then rattled off the numbers to a small drone that hovered nearby, emitting small beeps whenever it noted something down. “This is just a test run, Junkrat – I’ll be bringing you out of your coma at periodic intervals to see how you’re doing. Rest now.” She was fiddling with a needle that went under his skin and then Junkrat felt a bit woozy, before fading into unconsciousness once more.

 

* * *

 

Mercy brought him out of his coma several times over the week, each time for a lengthier period, until he’d recovered enough strength to be awake and eagerly chatting to Roadhog for over an hour – Mercy was very pleased with his recovery.

Mercy had been waking him at regular intervals, and gradually, had explained what had happened. He’d been in an induced coma for nearly four weeks – his injuries had been catastrophic, apparently, and Mercy had placed him in the coma in order to let his body heal gradually, and to give her time to complete each surgery without worrying about him waking up and ruining his progress. Now that all his surgeries were complete, however, she’d begun bringing him out of the coma so he could resume his life. Junkrat had also been informed that he hadn’t been the only one injured, and as he remembered nothing of Doomfist dropping a building on his head, this had come as a surprise. He was the only one in the medibay now, for neither Hanzo nor Mei had been injured the way he had, and both had since been released from the medibay while he was still in his coma. Hanzo had survived with little more than a few broken bones, multiple contusions, a bone deep wound to one thigh and a bad concussion – apparently, his dragons had protected him from the worst of the debris. Junkrat was still inclined to call the lot of them crazy – if he had seen the dragons, he didn’t remember it.

What was strange to think about was Mei. Junkrat remembered nothing, but Mei did, and apparently he had tackled her when it became evident that they weren’t going to outrun the collapsing building, while at the same time Mei had fired her ice blaster in an attempt to create a shield. He’d been caught in the ice and while his entire body hadn’t been covered, Mei’s ice had been enough to stop him from being killed outright, though it hadn’t prevented his more life-threatening injuries. She’d come into see him multiple times once he’d began waking up, to see his progress.

Mei had sat by his bed and teared up as she thanked him profusely for trying to save her, and a bewildered Junkrat had asked her what exactly had happened, since he had lost a good chunk of time before and after the building came down. Mei had told him how that as they were trying to flee, he had apparently realised that they wouldn’t make it. He had screamed “get down!” at the top of his lungs, and then tackled her just as Mei pulled the trigger on her ice blaster and the wave of debris swept over them. His partially ice encased body had shielded hers, and Mei had curled into the tiniest ball possible beneath him as they were buried. She had gotten a bit choked up then, and Junkrat had realised that the sheer horror of watching his body be contort and crushed through the ice had thoroughly scarred her, and he hadn’t pressed for details. It was her crying out for help through the rubble that had led Roadhog to their location.

In any case, they were both alive, a fact which he had cheerfully mentioned to Mercy later on after Mei had left, and had not been expecting it in the slightest when the doctor turned to him, her expression grave. Mercy had come to sit by his side, taking his hand in hers, and finally told him – that while his injuries had been catastrophic, yes, it had been worse. He had actually _died_.

Junkrat had stared at her uncomprehendingly and asked for clarification, whereupon Mercy had explained that he’d been alive when pulled from the rubble, but his lungs were partially collapsed and his heart had given out not long afterwards. Ana had ‘inserted a tube’ for him to breathe through, whatever that meant, and they had managed to prevent him from becoming being brain dead as Mercy used her staff to bring him back to the land of the living and stabilise him for the journey back to Gibraltar. That had been a troubling thought. _Very_ troubling.

Come to think of it, Mercy hadn’t exactly explained _how_ she’d used her staff to bring him back, and Junkrat had left it alone, preferring not to think about being dead as much as possible. However, he was no stranger to shifty demeanours, and he’d gotten the sense that Mercy hadn’t been telling him everything, and he’d since resolved to ask Hog about it.

He had panicked a little at the thought of being dead but Mercy had calmed him, and she’d promised that he was safe now, and in no danger. Junkrat had promised her in return that if she was wrong and he carked it he’d come back to haunt the medibay.

“Hey Merc?” He called, and she instantly turned to face him from where she was reading some sort of data display – he was hooked up to quite a few machines, and he didn’t like it a bit.

“Yes?” She raised inquiring brows and he fidgeted in discomfort. This wasn’t a topic he wanted to talk about, but at the same time, he needed to know.

“Merc…” Junkrat began slowly, picking ineffectively at the blanket with his fingers nearly immobile in his cast. “Y’said I got hurt real bad… when y’say ‘real bad’, what exactly happened t’me?”

She instantly came over, laying her hand over his, her expression concerned. “I’ll tell you if you really want to know, but Junkrat, please consider that this sort of thing can be deeply distressing…” Mercy waited and Junkrat thought about it for a moment, then steeled himself.

“I wanna know what happened.” He said tersely, and she nodded, and reached for the tablet she had laid at the end of his bed.

“Well, it’s quite the laundry list…” Mercy eyed him carefully, as though assessing his expression, and continued. “You were crushed. That’s the most basic explanation. You know what Mei did…?”

“She fired her ice thingo.” Junkrat nodded along. “That stopped me from uh, dyin’. Mostly.”

“Mostly.” Mercy agreed, skimming through his medical file on her tablet. “Unfortunately, the brunt of the debris hit before the ice could protect more of you.” There was a delicate pause. “I’m afraid your head was largely exposed, and you were more or less… scalped.”

Junkrat let out a horrified yelp, his hand reflexively lifting to feel around his head, but the cast prevented this. Mercy seized his arm in the next moment and laid it back down on the bed. “Don’t move, please. You’re fine, Junkrat. Absolutely _fine_. I was able to reattach your scalp, and with a few more rounds of treatment there won’t even be a scar.”

“ _Scalped?”_ He whispered, his eyes as wide as saucers as he tried to imagine it.

“Yes. It seems some debris came down and caught your skin just near your right ear, and sheared your scalp off the top of your skull.” Mercy shook her head. “If you want the honest truth, you’re incredibly lucky not to have been decapitated.”

 “Heh… m’head’s too hard for that!” He giggled manically to cover up the icy chips of fear in his gut. “What else?”

Mercy raised a brow and continued. “Mei’s ice encased your torso and while it did prevent much more serious injury, the ice itself was crushed by the weight of the debris, which crushed you in turn. You ruptured three organs and had serious internal bleeding, and all your ribs were broken – most just fractured but at least three shattered completely. Two of them pierced your lungs. Ana had to pierce your chest with a tube to keep you breathing until we could be extracted.” Mercy stopped, looking very concerned. “Are you okay?”

Junkrat was _not_ okay – his heartrate was up and the machine was beginning to beep at him, and he was panicking at the thought of all these injuries.

“Junkrat, calm down.” Mercy’s voice was soothing as she held his hand firmly, and he struggled to focus on her. “You’re okay, remember that. You _lived_ , you’re perfectly fine.”

He took a few fortifying gulps of air and managed to calm himself after a few long moments. “Okay.” He said hoarsely. “I’m good.” Junkrat considered things for a moment and waggled his arm, encased as it was in a plaster cast. “M’arm’s broken?”

“Yes, you snapped your radius clean in two, sent it straight through the skin.”

Junkrat grimaced. “Other arm?”

Mercy looked thoughtfully down at his stump. “You didn’t break your humerus – I think your prosthetic took the brunt of impact, which protected your bones, and-”

“M’arm!” Junkrat gasped, tried to sit up, was assailed by a wave of groggy dizziness, and lay back down again. “Where is it!?”

“It’s in the workshop.” Mercy was pressing him back into the bed again, her face very sweetly concerned. “Torbjörn’s fixing it – though he doubts he’ll be able to get the inner mechanisms perfect.”

A swell of pride made him grin. “Hah, yeah, the fiddly bits can be tricky.” Junkrat wondered what exactly was wrong with his arm – was it snapped? Crushed? Mutilated beyond repair? He voiced this concern and Mercy shook her head.

“Torb is confident it’ll work again. It seems to be badly dented in the centre, and that’s preventing the fingers from working, but he’s mending the casing as we speak.”

“Oh yeah? Tell him cheers, ay?”

“I certainly will.”

Junkrat eyed his legs. Covered by a sheet, he couldn’t _see_ them, but he knew he’d managed to fuck up his good leg, considering the heavy weight of some sort of… it wasn’t a cast, he could tell that much. He seemed to have a metal framework around it instead, which was… alarming. His stump seemed okay though. “What happened t’m’leg?” He asked, curiously, trying to work out what the metal framework was doing. Mercy grimaced inadvertently, and Junkrat caught it, his brows shooting into his hair. “Oh _fuck_ – am I gonna need another peg!?”

“Oh, no.” Mercy rushed to soothe his fears. “It was just a delicate surgery, that’s all.”

Junkrat furrowed his brow, considering. “It’s not just broken?”

“No, unfortunately not.” Mercy frowned at his foot. “Do you remember that you once asked me if I could put your foot back on if you lost it, so you could go ‘four for four’?”

Junkrat stared at her for a long moment, and then he started giggling, and couldn’t stop.

“ _Really_ , Junkrat.” Mercy tried to look severe but failed.

“Lost m’foot!” He managed to choke out, tears of laughter blurring his vision.

“Not quite.” Mercy’s voice cut through his giggling and he managed to calm himself enough to listen. “Your ankle was crushed _almost_ to the point of being severed, but not quite.”

“That’s not a cast though.” Junkrat inquired. “So what…?”

Mercy pulled back his sheets to show him, and he found that from the knee down on his good leg, he was encased in a metal frame that had long wires inserted into his flesh, though the space just above his ankle was firmly bound in something that felt almost like concrete. Mercy explained to him then that although she had managed to resurrect the crushed flesh and bone, it was weak enough that she had used the metal framework to support the limb, and keep it from collapsing while it healed.

“It was an extremely complicated surgery.” She concluded. “I don’t mean to blow my own horn, but I doubt you’d have kept your foot if my technology was any less advanced. I was forced to seriously consider amputation, but luckily I found a way around it.”

Junkrat thanked her profusely for it; despite his jokes, he would not have liked to have lost his other leg. His blood ran cold at the thought, and Mercy patted his hand, a concerned expression on her face.

“How do you feel?” She asked. “It can be hard to hear things like that.”

“M’okay.” Junkrat grinned at her. “I’ll be roight, Merc, don’t worry.”

She looked wry. “I’m a doctor. It’s my job to worry about my patients.”

Mercy ran some tests after that, and then Roadhog came in for his daily visit. Junkrat told Hog all about his injuries, completely disregarding the fact that Roadie would already know what had happened to him, though the big man didn’t burst his bubble, and simply let him talk.

After a while, however, he began to tire. He got tired easily – his injuries, the stress of his body being forced to heal in an unnaturally fast manner, and the drugs he was on – Junkrat tried to ignore his growing exhaustion, but as his words were interrupted more and more often by yawns, Roadhog told him to stop being stupid and rest, and went to fetch Mercy. Resigned to his fate by the time the doctor had arrived, Junkrat had sunk beneath his covers, his eyes heavy-lidded. Mercy began to check his machines as she always did, and then he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

When Junkrat awoke, he wasn’t alone. Years spent in the Outback made him tense automatically, and then he realised who it was, and relaxed. The woman next to him was singing. Sort of, anyway. It was more of a tuneful chant, her voice not quite lifted enough to make a proper song. For a moment he panicked, thinking he’d somehow lost the ability to comprehend words and then he realised the woman wasn’t singing in English. Junkrat looked up at her through his lashes, studying her form intently. She had her fingers laced very gently with his despite the fact that his arm was in a cast, and she was gazing out of the window, her face pensive. Junkrat twitched his fingers within hers, tightening his grip just a little, and Satya jumped, turning to look down at him with wide eyes.

The moment she realised he was awake and looking at her, she gasped and her metal hand flew to her mouth.

“Jamie? Oh Gods, _Jamie_.” She closed her eyes on a shaky breath and a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Sat?” Junkrat cleared his throat and tried again. “Satya, oi, don’t cry.”

She swooped down to press her lips to his forehead, before she jerked back, her expression horrified.

“I didn’t hurt you?” She asked anxiously, but Junkrat closed his eyes in bliss.

“Y’kissed me.” He said rather stupidly, but as Satya’s lips curved in a slight smile, he forgot to berate himself for it.

“I did.” She replied softly, squeezing his fingers softly. “And I’ll do it again if you’re not careful.”

“That’s the best soundin’ threat I think I’ve ever had!” Junkrat grinned at her. “‘Course, the kinda threats where-” His words died in his throat as Satya leaned in again, her lips lingering on his forehead for a long moment, before she pulled back. She seemed to have reassured herself that he was okay, and was smiling softly.

Junkrat found himself unable to tap his forehead like he wanted to, so he settled for waggling his brows. “Roight, that’s two for two, love. How ‘bout three for luck?” He puckered his lips and gave her what he thought was an inviting look.

Satya looked amused and then indulgent, and his heartrate sped up as she leaned in, the feel of her lips brushing over his softer than silk.

“Mmm.” Junkrat murmured, once she had pulled back, completely ignoring the machine at his side that was beeping indignantly over his raised heartrate. “Think we should go four for four. Whadaya reckon, love?”

Satya smiled at him. “I think you’re being silly.”

“Could be that.” He agreed, then looked at her properly. “Haven’t seen y’in here before.” He mumbled. “Thought y’might have dropped by…”

“I have. Every day.” Her lips curved down slightly. “You’ve been asleep each time. I came tonight though, because Angela mentioned that she had taken you out of your coma for good, and that you can wake up on your own now. Not that I’d intended to wake you, of course. I just thought… well, you might have woken.”

Junkrat stared at her, a peculiar feeling squeezing his chest. “Every day?” He asked, and Satya nodded.

She was right, he supposed; Mercy had been waking him at regular intervals, but not for long, and while in his coma he wouldn’t have noticed if Winston came and danced a jig with his peanut butter, let alone Satya.

“That’s real nice of ya.” He said, feeling cheered, and her brows furrowed as she opened her mouth to speak, but then the door opened and Mercy came rushing in, cinching the tie of her dressing gown over her banana-patterned pyjamas as she came.

“Oh!” She said, pulling up short at the sight of Satya at his bedside. Junkrat stared at the doctor, mentally shoving her out the door again as Satya pulled her hand from his, and he flexed his fingers at the loss of contact.

“I’m sorry,” Mercy said apologetically. “Hello, Satya. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. It’s just, all my alerts started going off.” She approached the machines by his bed and stared at the screens before she turned to frown at him. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” Junkrat was now disposed to be grumpy at the interruption, and his brows lowered in displeasure.

“Your heartrate _skyrocketed_ a minute ago.” Mercy mused, and at his side, Satya’s eyes widened and she very deliberately avoided eye contact with either of them, and abruptly Junkrat got it. The machine had beeped like a nutcase when she’d kissed him – Mercy had actually been _alerted_ to their kiss. Junkrat bit down hard on his lower lip to stifle a giggle but wasn’t entirely successful, earning himself a disapproving look from Satya. “What were you doing?” Mercy asked, somewhat suspiciously.

Junkrat shrugged, attempting for innocent. “I dunno. Nuthin’.”

Mercy’s gaze flickered to Satya and back to his face. “Hmm.” She said, and Junkrat had a feeling he _hadn’t_ gotten away with it. She pressed a few buttons and frowned a little more, then turned back to the two of them. “Well, it must have been a false alarm. I’ll head back to bed now. But Junkrat? Try not to get yourself too… worked up.” She said delicately. “I’ll get an alert, every time. Goodnight, Junkrat. Goodnight, Satya.”

“G’night!” Junkrat called cheerily as Satya murmured a barely audible goodbye.

The instant the door closed behind Mercy, Junkrat dissolved into a fit of the giggles while Satya eyed him in utter mortification, colour high in her cheeks.

“Stop it!” She hissed, and he bit down hard on his lower lip in an effort to quell his laughter.

“Sorry!” He eked out, then managed to compose himself. “Holy fuck, can’t believe Mercy got _alerted_ -” That set him off again, shoulders shaking from the giggles.

“Hush!” Satya laid her hand over his mouth and he licked her fingers. She pulled back with a wrinkled nose and wiped her hand on the sheet, which only made him laugh harder. She fixed him with a disapproving look. “Jamison Fawkes, you settle down _this instant_ or I’ll leave!”

Junkrat took massive gulp of air and held it, his cheeks blown out like a chipmunk in an effort to shut up, and Satya’s amused smile knocked him for six. He forgot what he’d been laughing at and got lost in her eyes and it wasn’t until her hand slipped into his and squeezed gently that he looked away, feeling a tiny bit uncomfortable with what he felt for her.

“Tell y’what, wasn’t expectin’ any of this when we went t’Ilios.” He muttered, and Satya’s expression changed, a tinge of shock entering her eyes.

“Angela said you don’t remember what happened… how much _do_ you remember of Ilios?” She asked almost anxiously, and Junkrat shrugged a little.

“Uh, I don’t remember Doomfuck or the buildin’ at all, don’t remember anythin’ after it till I woke up here… mmm… oh!” Abruptly, he realised what she was driving at, and looked at her through his lashes. “Remember talkin’ t’you.” _And kissin’ ya_ , he added mentally.

Satya’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad.” She said simply. “I _was_ worried you might wake up and be angry at me all over again.”

“Thought we’d established that I was pissed at m’self, not you?” Junkrat inquired, then gave her a grin. “But if y’wanna kiss an’ make up again, I ain’t gonna say no.”

Satya laughed then, her eyes crinkling with humour as she brought her hand up as though to muffle the sound. “You’re insatiable.” She said amusedly, and he grinned at her.

“Ain’t denyin’ it.” He agreed, and Satya wound her fingers into his again.

“No.” She said softly, and warmth settled in his belly. “However, I don’t feel like summoning Angela again, so you’ll just have to go without.”

Junkrat made a face and she laughed again. “So… what is this, Sat?” He asked, and squeezed her fingers for emphasis. “Y’leavin’ Vishkar now…”

“It’s… well, I don’t know.” Her expression was just the tiniest bit guarded. “I thought… we might take things slowly, and… see where we end up.”

That was good enough for now, he supposed, and so he nodded. “Roight, that’s fair enough.” Junkrat gave her a shy sort of smile then. “You… y’gonna come back again tomorrow?”

Satya’s expression softened. “Of course. Angela wanted to see me tomorrow anyway.” She mused out loud. “We’re going to finish up the last of my laser treatments, and-”

Junkrat furrowed his brow. “Why’re y’getting lasered?”

“To remove my scar – oh!” Satya’s eyed widened. “You don’t know. I’m sorry. I should have mentioned it differently-”

“Mentioned _what?”_ Junkrat inquired darkly. “Didja get hurt at Ilios?”

“I was shot.” She said quietly, and the machines besides his bed started beeping in alarm as he tried to sit up with a grimace of stiff muscles. His arm wasn’t the only thing in a cast, and his torso was swathed in bandages, so he didn’t even get fully upright before having to stop, but Junkrat ignored it completely.

“ _What!?_ Where? Y’okay? Who was the bastard?” He demanded heatedly. “Are they dead!? They better be fuckin’ dead, oi, I’m gonna-”

Satya squeezed his hand and pushed at his shoulder. “Lie _down_ , Jamison.” She said, and he let himself be pushed back into the pillows. “You’re making the machine beep-”

Junkrat glared at the stupid machine, belatedly realising that Mercy was going to get an alert, and he tracked the cord that led from the machine to a needle buried in the crook of his elbow on the arm that was a stump. Without thinking things through, he managed to raise his arm to his mouth and ripped the needle out.

“Jamie! _N_ _ā dēvatalu!_ _”_

Rather than stop the machine’s infernal beeping, like he’d intended, the machine proceeded to go nuts, and Junkrat reached out to try and thump it with his cast. Satya was on her feet, hands on his arm trying to pull him back, and blood was dripping freely from the hole he’d made as Mercy burst through the door.

“Junkrat!” She cried. “What-”

“He’s ripped his needle out!” Satya burst out, looking furious, and then Junkrat was confronted with the wrath of _two_ scary women.

“ _Why_ on _earth_ -” Mercy swooped over him and devolved into German muttering as Satya stepped towards the sink on the other side of the room and washed his blood from her fingers.

“Wasn’t my fault!” Junkrat protested. “Wouldn’t stop beepin’!”

Mercy sighed from where she was holding a gauze pad to the wound. “It’s _supposed_ to beep. It’s monitoring your vital signs.”

“Well, it’s fuckin’ annoyin’!” He argued hotly. “Can’t y’mute it or somethin’?”

“No, I can’t.” Mercy said firmly.

She produced a fresh needle then, and Junkrat’s eyes got very big indeed.

“Oh, _no no no no, fuck no -_ Nope! No way! _No no no-”_

“ _Yes_.” Mercy said firmly. “Junkrat, it’s important.”

Junkrat shook his head fast and tried to wiggle out of her grasp. “No! Don’t wanna!”

“Be reasonable, _please_.” Mercy said imploringly. “Listen to me.” She held up the needle and he stared at it. “This is an intravenous drip line, okay? I’m not putting it in for no reason. It’s important. It lets me administer the necessary medication, and it’s safer and easier for _everyone_ involved if you let me.” Junkrat tuned her out, his gaze on Satya, who inclined her head with a ‘please do it’ expression on her face.

He pursed his lips, let out a long-suffering sigh, and let Mercy stab him again.

“Why didn’t it stop beepin’ though?” He asked, having thoroughly inspected his new, firmly taped-down IV needle.

The corner of Mercy’s mouth twitched. “Because this machine isn’t connected to your IV.”

Junkrat stared at her, then at the machine. “What?” He demanded. “Which one is it?” He had wires connected to little sticker pads on his chest and one at his temple; he peeled it off his head before Mercy could stop him, and the machine went wild again, along with two others.

Mercy plucked the sticker from his hand and deftly reattached it, before reaching around to press some buttons, which silenced the beeps. “Junkrat, _please_. These machines are very important. They’re monitoring your vitals, they’ll let me know if something is wrong. I know it’s frustrating for you, being stuck in this bed, but I promise I’m doing everything in my power to make you well again.”

It occurred to him that he was looking like the bastard in this scenario, and he wilted. “But I feel fine…” He mumbled.

“I know.” Mercy patted his shoulder gently and gave him a smile. “I don’t doubt that at all. But it’s about being sure. I would never let any of my patients receive improper care.”

He pursed his lips again. “ _Fine_. When can I leave, but?”

Mercy looked pleased with his acquiescence. “When you’ve healed enough that I can take you out of your casts and I’ve completed all my tests, and I’m satisfied that you’re healthy and aren’t going to suffer any side effects.”

Junkrat shrugged, though he didn’t like it at all. “Better than nothin’, I guess.”

Mercy looked at Satya then, who was watching these proceedings with an inscrutable expression on her face.

“Now-” Mercy began. “-I’m sorry to say it, but I can’t have my patients agitated like this. Satya, if Junkrat continues to get himself all worked up I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Oi, what?” Junkrat asked indignantly.

“Junkrat.” Satya interrupted him before he could get going. “It’s fine.”

“No, it ain’t.” He snapped. “Why-”

“Junkrat.” Satya moved to his side and brushed her fingers over his arm. “Listen to Angela.”

He narrowed his eyes first at Satya and then at Mercy, and sank into his pillows with a grumble as Mercy drew Satya towards the door, speaking quietly. He eyed them suspiciously – they were too far away for him to catch what they were saying but he wanted to _know_ , dammit, and was Mercy making Satya leave? He was gonna be pissed right the fuck off if she did-

Junkrat held his breath as Mercy opened the door, but then she left, leaving Satya in his room. Satya crossed back over to his bed and sat down again, her expression inscrutable.

“Angela is right, Jamie. You mustn’t get overexcited.”

Junkrat disregarded that. “She gone?” He asked, craning his neck.

“She’s gone back to bed, yes. I did promise her that you wouldn’t set off your alerts again though, so please don’t make me a liar.”

“I’ll try.” He grumbled. “I wanna _leave_.”

“I know.” Satya put her hand into his, her fingers soft around his own. “It must be very frustrating for you, but Angela only wants to help you.”

“I ‘spose.” He tried to cast his mind back to what they had been talking about before he’d ripped his needle out, and his eyes flew wide as he remembered. “Shit! Y’got shot! Sat, what happened?”

“Now, Jamie, I don’t think this is the best time. You need rest, not to talk about-”

 _“What happened?”_ He growled. “I’ll get bloody well ‘worked up’ if y’don’t tell me, Sat.”

Satya sighed slightly. “Promise me you’ll stay calm?” When he had nodded tersely, she tightened her grip on his hand and began, eyeing him cautiously the whole time. “I was up on the rooftops. I – I saw it. I saw Doomfist – I saw the building collapse.” She took a deep breath. “I tried to shield you but it happened too fast – if I’d just been faster you wouldn’t have been hurt- it’s my fault you were hurt-”

He felt like he’d just been punched in the gut, and squeezed her fingers hard. “It ain’t.” Junkrat cut her off firmly. “It isn’t y’fault, Satya, not at all.”

She nodded slowly. “I know.” She said softly, and wiped under her eyes briefly. “But that doesn’t stop the guilt. I was trying to get down to you, after the building collapsed. I wasn’t paying attention to anything else. It was stupid mistake – there was a Talon agent there, and he shot me.”

Junkrat tensed, gaze roaming over her form. “Where?” He asked anxiously, and Satya brushed a hand at the top of her thigh.

“Here.” She said quietly. “I couldn’t get away from him. I couldn’t run. I lost my photon projector when I fell, and I need clarity of mind to use my hard light. I couldn’t even shield myself.”

Junkrat felt sick to his guts just imagining it. “Then what?” He demanded. “Did that bastard try anythin’ else? Fuckin’ cunt, I’d like t-”

“He called Reaper.” Satya’s brows furrowed, her lashes lowering. “He was just going to sit there and make sure I didn’t get away before Reaper got there to – to make me pay for London.”

At his harsh intake of breath and heated curse, Satya lifted her head with a faint smile.

“Jesse saved me.” She said simply. “He shot the man in the head and carried me away. I have no doubt that things would have gone very differently if he hadn’t been nearby. He told me later that he heard me scream and came running to see if I needed help.”

“Thank fuck for that.” Junkrat said fervently – the cowboy had suddenly shot far up in his estimations. “But – y’good now?”

Satya smiled. “I’m fine. I did go a while without medical attention-” At his indignant noise, she stroked her thumb soothingly over his palm. “I wouldn’t let Angela.” She said softly, eyes on their hands. “She was already having to choose between you, Mei and Hanzo… I wasn’t going to jeopardise anything.”

Junkrat swelled in indignation. On the one hand, he was pleased about being alive – but on the other, Satya had given up medical treatment for him.

As though she knew what he was thinking, the corner of her mouth ticked up. “Don’t _worry_ , Jamie – I wasn’t bleeding out on the floor.” Satya paused and reconsidered. “Well, I was, but not for long. Lúcio.” She said simply. “He healed me as much as he could and that was enough for me to wait until you were out of surgery. The bullet missed the bone – I wasn’t in any real danger.”

Junkrat pursed his lips, but decided not to press the matter. It was making him feel strange – he’d never _worried_ about someone like this before. Hog didn’t really need it, of course – the big guy could look after himself, and Junkrat barely remembered to worry about himself half the time, so to find himself so anxious for Satya’s wellbeing was quite… strange. There was the time in Siberia, when she’d had that hole torn in her guts, but that was different. He’d worried then, of course, but this… they were more than friends now. Or so he _thought_. What did ‘take it slowly’ mean, anyway?

“Glad yer all good.” He murmured, then smothered a yawn. Satya looked alarmed as she glanced at the clock on the wall.

“It’s late, I’m keeping you awake.” She said, springing to her feet. “I should go.”

“No, stay here!” Junkrat whined, tugging at her hand, and a smile curved the corners of her mouth up.

“It’s very late.”

“I’m not tired.” He said through another yawn. “I mean it, Sat, I ain’t tired at all, could go for days, I reckon-”

Satya brushed her fingers gently through his hair. “You need rest.” She countered. “Go to sleep, Jamison. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Junkrat knew he was fighting a losing battle, and slumped down into his pillows. He _was_ pretty bloody tired – you’d think he’d be raring to go after so long stuck in his coma, but he got exhausted fast, and it crept up on him abruptly. Mercy had said some rubbish about acclimatising and muscles atrophying and some other stuff he had ignored, and Junkrat decided it might have been foolish not to have listened to her properly.

“Promise?” He asked, and she fussed over his bedsheets, tucking him in gently.

“I promise. Goodnight, Jamie.” With a last feather-light touch of her fingers over his cheek, Satya turned and left, and Junkrat watched her go. A small, content smile tugged at his lips and he felt… tranquil. Satya’s presence was soothing and she’d kissed him – more than once! – and she was coming back tomorrow… Junkrat settled into his bed and closed his eyes, to dream of pleasant things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing like a chapter full of fluff to ring in the new year~


	64. Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat gets out of the medibay

Satya left the workshop and headed back to her room with a content smile on her lips and the bone deep satisfaction that came with the near completion of an architectural project. She had been working on her Oasis project all morning, and had just send a rough draft of her plans to Sanjay for him to approve before she ticked off her list, made any final adjustments, and submitted it to the board. Satya passed Jesse in the corridor, and he grinned at her around his cigarillo.

“Heya, darlin’.” He drawled. “Gettin’ ready t’go?”

“Good morning, Jesse. Yes, I’m going to pack now.” Satya gave him a narrow look. “As should you, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, probably.” Jesse seemed quite unconcerned, falling into step beside her. “So. Jesse, huh? Finally on a first name basis?”

“Yes, I think so.” Satya slipped him a look, mildly alarmed that she may have misinterpreted his feelings on the matter. “Though if you are uncomfortable with my addressing you by your first name-”

“Aw, no, no.” He flapped a hand at her. “That’s not what I meant! Been waitin’ to hear you say it for a while. You’re one of the only people ‘round here that only used our agent names, y’know?”

“I know.” Satya shrugged one shoulder. “It _is_ more professional.”

“Yeah, but we’re one big crazy family, little sister.” Jesse winked at her exaggeratedly, and though Satya rolled her eyes, she couldn’t help her small smile. “Hey, speakin’ of sisters-” He continued the thought, his expression curious. “-you got any?”

Satya’s shoulders tightened and her smile faded. “I… don’t think so.”

Jesse’s silence was questioning, and Satya sighed.

“I have not spoken to my parents in… a long time. I have been with Vishkar since I was a small child.” She explained, choosing her words carefully. “Familial relationships were… discouraged.”

“What the hell for?” Jesse sounded shocked, and Satya wrapped both arms around her waist.

“My family-” Satya said slowly, repeating what had often been explained to her in her youth, especially when she had first arrived at the academy, and had not understood why she couldn’t see her mother, “-my parents… they gave me up. They did not want me.” She took a deep breath, the familiar wound opening beneath her fingers. She usually kept it tightly under wraps, and tried not to think about her parents too often, not even when actively thinking about her childhood. “Vishkar saw my potential as a candidate to train as an architech, and approached them to discuss my education. My parents told them they could have me.” She pressed her lips tightly together – she had told nobody this. Not even Jamison.

“Well, shit. I’m real sorry Satya.” Jesse reached out and touched her arm. “Didn’t mean t’bring up shitty memories.”

“It isn’t your fault.” Satya kept her gaze downcast. “You weren’t to know.”

Jesse surprised her completely when he reached out and pulled her into a hug. He did it a lot with the others – how many times had she seen him hug Hana, Pharah, Angela, Ana or Mei? (and how many times had Pharah elbowed him in the gut for it?) However, Satya had not been prepared and so she froze, stiff and uncomfortable in his grip until he released her a moment later, a worried frown on his face.

“Hey, Satya - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine.” Satya took a step back and straightened her blouse. “You weren’t to know.” She said through frozen lips, worry sitting in the base of her gut, for a thought had just occurred to her. If Vishkar had lied about so many other things… what if they’d lied to her about her parents?

What if her parents _hadn’t_ wanted to give her up?

She was riddled with anxiety at the prospect, because she didn’t see which one was more likely. Maybe Vishkar had cut them off from her and they had been hurt, betrayed, by the loss of their only child – but she had distant memories of her parents becoming frustrated and angry with her as a child. Her behaviour had been much worse as a child – her autism had been hard for her parents to handle, she knew that much. Satya’s memories were very dim, but they weren’t non-existent. She’d had long periods where she was entirely non-verbal (this much she was certain of, since it had continued while at the academy). As a child, neither she nor her parents had had not had the tools nor the understanding to properly care for and handle her autism. Satya had been given all the best resources at the academy, had learnt exactly what made her different from the majority of other students there, and had learnt her limitations and her boundaries, and how to manage them. She was confident in herself and her abilities now, of course, but in her childhood… those had been some hellish years.

Satya forced a smile to her lips and banished the thought from her mind as she turned to Jesse. “Do you think this will be an eventful mission? Ilios was supposed to be quiet and it was anything but.”

Jesse snorted a laughed, but the look on his face told her he knew she was deliberately changing the subject. “Nice way t’put it. Bit of a shitshow, yeah.” He agreed. “Well, I dunno about this one. Simple escort job, should be easy. Don’t think Talon’d be there.”

“I shouldn’t think so.” Satya agreed. “But they seem to be making it a habit to show up where they shouldn’t be.”

“True.” Jesse stroked his beard meditatively. “But from what recon’s told us of the area, Hollywood’s just undergoing a fair bit of omnic hate. Here’s hoping it sticks to that. I don’t fancy adding terrorists to the mix.”

“Some would argue that anti-omnic groups _are_ terrorists.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a shitty world we live in. Y’reckon Glitchbot’ll give us free tickets to the movies?”

“I doubt it. We’re only providing security.”

“Kind of a shitty mission, to be honest.” Jesse looked thoughtful. “Think it’s a good thing Rat, Hog and Torb aren’t going, though.”

“I agree. We’ll need to be in close proximity to Glitchbot. I doubt those three would be pleased with the idea.”

Jamison was, of course, still forbidden from active duty despite his complaints that he was fine, as were Hanzo and Mei. The three of them were staying behind at the base, while Torbjörn had requested leave for his youngest child’s birthday, taking Brigitte with him. He’d left two days ago, and would stay with his family for the duration of the Hollywood mission. With the combination of omnics and a noticeable lack of Jamison, Roadhog was also staying at the base, while Lena was taking Emily back home to London, now that the riots had died down and the area was safe. The rest of them were off to Hollywood, for a surge in anti-omnic hate groups had made the critically acclaimed director HAL-Fred Glitchbot fear for his safety after a particularly nasty attack. The director had been unharmed but shaken, and had demanded top security as a result.  

It was for this reason they were leaving for America in two hours. Satya had had her bag packed since yesterday, but she still intended to ensure she had everything, and pack her toothbrush and the make-up she’d applied that morning into her bag.

“Are you excited to see America?” She asked, and he grinned.

 “I am! ‘Course, I never lived in LA, but home’s home, I reckon. Have you been?”

“A few times. Mostly to New York. I’ve been to San Francisco and Washington D.C for conferences, though. Huston, once, and Chicago too, but New York is where our main American headquarters are located.”

“Ah.” Jesse stroked his beard. “Never played the tourist?”

“Not really, no. I mean, I’ve been to the top of the Empire State Building and visited Alcatraz, but those were Vishkar organised trips.”

Jesse’s brow furrowed. “Why’d Vishkar take ya to Alcatraz?”

Satya shrugged one shoulder. “They do it a lot. Whenever we’ve a large group of architechs headed to another country for conferences or work, we like to go to famous buildings and critique them. We discuss how ugly and inefficient they are, and how we’d have designed something much better.”

Jesse chuckled. “That’s petty. Y’think Empire State’s ugly?”

“It’s old-fashioned.” Satya shrugged again. “I don’t care much for twentieth century designs. They’re soulless, blocky, and unattractive.”

“Ooh, shit’s heatin’ up in the architect department.” Jesse waggled his brows amusedly, and Satya smiled as she corrected him.

“Archi _tech_.”

“Oops, sorry.” He grinned at her and slipped his cigarillo back into his mouth. “Well, I’m gonna head off. Don’t want Jack on m’ass if I’m late t’the dropship.”

“Wise of you.” Satya nodded. “I’ll do the same. I’ll see you later, Jesse.”

“See ya, Satya.”

Jesse headed down a different corridor and Satya decided she would stop by at the workshop first, to pick up her blueprints. You never knew – she might have time to work on them in Los Angeles. Her route took her past the medibay, and Satya stood outside the door for a moment, before she went in – her blueprints could wait while she said goodbye to Jamison. To her surprise, Jamison was in the little waiting room, installed in a wheelchair which floated gently above the ground, with both of his prosthetics in his lap. Angela was standing beside him, looking over a chart projected into the air by one of her small hospital drones. Jamison’s face lit up when he saw her, and Satya smiled as she raised a brow.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Reaching their side, Satya cast a smile at the doctor. “Good morning, Angela.”

“Good morning!” Angela replied cheerfully. “As for why Junkrat’s up and about, I’m releasing him from the medibay.”

“Finally!” Jamison looked very excited and waved his prosthetic arm in the air. “Can’t wait t’blow this joint!”

Angela looked down at him. “Though you’ve promised to behave, I think?”

Jamison nodded, his grin like a small child who’d just been given sweets. “Yeah! No misbehavin’ from me, no sir, I’ll be good, wipe m’nose an’ m’arse an’-”

“I think we get the picture.” Angela interjected, her tone amused. “Did you need something, Satya?”

Satya shook her head. “Oh no, nothing like that. I just thought I’d say goodbye to the inmate before we leave.”

Jamison went to giggle at the word _inmate_ , but then she detected the exact moment he registered the _goodbye_ part of the equation, and frowned.

“Oh, well, you just missed Mei and Hanzo.” Angela continued. “They’ve been for their check-ups and I checked them out about an hour ago. Junkrat is still here because I don’t trust him to wheel his chair in a straight line, and Roadhog hasn’t arrived yet.”

Jamison giggled madly. “She’s just scared of the mad burnouts y’could do in this thing.” He whispered confidingly, and Angela swatted at his shoulder.

“I’m _scared_ that you’ll crash the chair and break something. Possibly on purpose.”

Jamison didn’t seem offended in the slightest; he just giggled, even seemed _delighted_ at this assumption. “Fat chance in this thing! Can’t do a _proper_ burnout without wheels. Lookit! I’m floatin’. I feel like a damn bumblebee.”

“Where is Roadhog?” Satya inquired, and Jamison shrugged.

“He’s pissed off somewhere, I dunno. Won’t answer the phone.”

Satya met Angela’s gaze with lowered brows. “Should someone look for him?” She asked, and Jamison made a dismissive noise.

“Nah, he’ll turn up when he wants.” He looked up at Angela, obviously going for an innocent, puppy-like gaze. “Can I go now?”

Angela raised a brow. “ _No burnouts_ , Junkrat.”

He giggled, then turned to Satya with an imploring look. “C’mon, don’t y’think it’s unfair? I wanna go t’the workshop!” He wiggled his prosthetics for emphasis. “Gotta get crackin’! Gotta fix ‘em!”

“I’m heading there myself.” Satya said, spying an opportunity. “If it’ll help, Angela, I can supervise the journey.”

Angela fixed her with a rather knowing look. “Oh yes? Yes, that’ll be a great help, Satya. Don’t let him crash into anything.”

Satya wasn’t sure how to reply to that knowing look, so she stepped forward and took hold of the back of the wheelchair. Junkrat giggled madly, drawing his legs up and clutching his prosthetics to his chest.

“I wanna go fast!” He crowed, and Satya shared an amused glance with Angela.

“Not _too_ fast.” The doctor cautioned, though she was smiling. “And I expect to see you again before we leave, Junkrat. And if you see Roadhog before I do, tell him I need to see him about your medication.”

He nodded carelessly. “What? Yeah, sure, whatever, I guess.”

Satya murmured her goodbye to Angela and wheeled Jamison out the door, and turned him towards the workshop. Once the door had slid shut behind them and they were alone, Satya turned her attention to his injuries. In the nearly four weeks since he’d been crushed, Angela’s attentions and many, many surgeries had seen him come out of a coma, have his reconstructed ankle removed from its metal frame, his broken bones reknit, and most alarmingly of all, brought back from the dead all together.

Of course, no one was any stranger to the concept of restarting the heart of a person who had been technically dead for a minute of two, and for several days everyone had operated under the bliss of this assumption, but then Ana, troubled and confused, had related a very different set of circumstances. According to her, Jamison had been too far gone. His injuries were too grievous, and he had had internal bleeding too severe to be stopped, to say nothing of his collapsed lung and several ruptured internal organs. Ana had been quite sure that they were only putting bandages on a dead man, but then Angela had seized her staff. The way Ana had described it, she had clearly never seen anything like it before – the way that Angela, in the vivid, eye-searing flash of gold they had all seen, had somehow healed the worst of Jamison’s internal injuries and taken him from mortal injuries to something far less fatal.

It had been judged that, with the complicated surgeries Jamison needed yet to follow and the medical care that both Hanzo and Mei required, Angela would not be questioned about it, but now that all three were well and had been released from the medibay, there would be a meeting held as soon as Glitchbot’s mission was over, and Angela would be required to explain exactly how she had done it.

 “Are you feeling better?” The question popped out of her without her express permission, and Jamison giggled in his chair.

“Yeah, I’m apples.” He turned and grinned up at her. “Never been better.”

Satya supressed a smile. “That might be pushing it a little.”

Jamison raised a brow. “Oi, what’s that ‘sposed t’mean?”

“You only just got out of the medibay. I’m sure you need to rest still.”

Jamison shrugged in a ‘what-can-you-do’ type motion, then grinned up at her. “Well if that’s the only thing then guess I’m doin’ pretty well! Angel wings coulda let me out _weeks_ ago.”

Satya eyed him narrowly. Weeks ago, he’d still been in a coma. “I’m sure. Have you seen Hanzo and Mei…?”

“Yeah, well, they both got turfed ages ago, didn’t they? Came back today though. Think Merc was talkin’ ‘bout check-ups or some shit. Snowball came in t’see me while she was there. She’s not so bad, ay?” He waggled his brows mischievously, evidently thinking of something else. “Y’know, thought it was gonna fuckin’ suck gettin’ kicked outta the mission, but maybe it won’t be _so_ bad… got the whole base t’me own self.”

Satya raised a brow in her most threatening way and Jamison waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, whatever. ‘No bombs in the base’, I _know_ that, Sat, I ain’t stupid.” Jamison paused, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Bombs ain’t the _only_ things I can do.”

That was possibly a cause for alarm, and Satya raised her brow higher. “I see. Fair warning, then – Hanzo may try to stuff you down the garbage chute if you annoy him too much.”

Jamison giggled hysterically. “He can _try_.” He wheezed.

“I suppose he will.” Satya turned his chair around a corner. “I suppose I shall see you in a few weeks. We’re leaving shortly – I’ll drop you off at the workshop and then I’ll have to take my bag to the dropship.”

Jamison’s brows snapped together. “A few _weeks?”_ He twisted around to look at her again. “Oi, y’not gonna be gone for _weeks,_ are ya?” When she nodded, Jamison frowned, clearly perturbed by the idea, which Satya found very sweet. “Oh. Well, yeah. I guess so.” He stabbed at the passing floor with his peg leg and scowled. “Have fun with y’bots.”

“I’m sure I will.” Satya smiled slightly as she wheeled his chair around another corner. “Jesse wants to see if Glitchbot will give us tickets to his movie.” She said casually, and got an indignant splutter in return.

 _“What?_ Y’not gonna _let_ him, are ya?” Jamison asked, sounding both furious and anxious. “It’d be the perfect trap! Who know what that filthy scrapheap’d lure y’into, the sneaky devious double-crossin’ shifty treacherous bastard-”

“I highly doubt it.” Satya said, amused. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll be sure to decline any tickets.”

Jamison puffed himself up, looking supremely pleased. Sensing movement, Satya looked behind her to see Hana and Lúcio appear behind them.

“Hey, Rat!” Hana cried, and they both hurried to catch up. “Hi, Satya! How are you two?”

“I’m well, thank you.” Satya murmured as Jamison haughtily informed them from his wheelchair that there was not a _thing_ wrong with him, thank you very much.

“When did Angie let you out?” Lúcio wanted to know.

“Just now. I’m good as new!” Jamison grinned at them all. “‘Metra got roped into drivin’ me t’the workshop too, ‘cause Merc thinks I’ll crash the chair!” He subsided into giggles. “‘Course-” He began in a conspiratorial tone. “If I do crash this baby, it’d be on purpose!”

Jamison and Hana both laughed at the thought, and Satya shared an amused look with Lúcio.

“Where were you two going?” Satya asked as she set off once more, as Hana and Lúcio fell into step on either side of Jamison’s chair.

“We’re getting our things; I’ve got to load the MEKA, and then we should be ready to go!” Hana chirped. “How about you?”

“I’m ready.” Satya replied. “If Angela hadn’t asked me to take Junkrat to the workshop, I’d be taking my bag to the ship.”

Jamison giggled to himself, then twisted around to see the rest of them – and lingered on Satya, pushing his chair.

“Kinda nice, havin’ m’own personal slave.” He sniggered. “Should try it more often – _ouch_!” He rubbed his head, where Hana had swatted him, and adopted a supremely injured look. “Wouldja lookit that, _assault_ on a _wounded_ bloke, y’ought t’be ashamed of y’self, twiglet, hurtin’ a poor defenceless bloke like me.” He closed his eyes and stuck his nose in the air. “I’m gonna call the coppers on you.”

Hana giggled. “Rat, if you call the cops, the only one getting arrested is _you_.”

Jamison opened one eye. “Maybe so.” He said thoughtfully, and then they turned the corner and reached the workshop. Lúcio reached out and opened the door, and after it had hissed open and Satya had wheeled Jamison over the threshold, he pointed eagerly at his workbench.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon – _ahhh_.” He said in utter satisfaction, as Satya wheeled him to the workbench and he spread his good hand over the multitude of half-finished grenades lying about. “Didja miss me?” He asked his bombs brightly, and Satya concealed a smile as she crossed to her own bench and straightened the crooked edge of a tablet. She lingered there for a few minutes, while Hana and Lúcio chatted with Jamison as he wrestled with his metal arm, and as he called Roadhog a few times and finally got through (apparently, Roadhog had been at the gym with his phone on silent), and then when Hana and Lúcio had left, she looked up to find him looking at her with his metal hand now back in place on his right arm and a strange expression on his face.

 “So.” He began, and wiggled his metal fingers slowly – the fingers seemed slow to respond, and she could tell he needed to continue repairs beyond what Torbjörn had done for it. “Y’goin’ away… for _weeks_.”

Satya turned and leaned against her workbench. “Yes, I’m afraid so.’ She smiled gently at his rather dejected expression. “It won’t be so bad.” She offered. “It ought to be a routine mission.”

“ _Ilios_ was ‘sposed to be ‘routine’.” Jamison rightly pointed out, and Satya nodded in agreement. “Anyway, Hollywood’ll be worse.” He said darkly, and she raised a brow.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because Ilios was just Talon!” He burst out. “Not fuckin’ _bots_.” Jamison shook his head furiously. “Can’t trust a bot. Don’t trust ‘em, Sat. Please.”

Satya chewed her bottom lip for a moment as she considered this plea. Well… prejudice aside, she supposed he did have a valid reason to hate omnics… not that she thought he should hate _all_ omnics, but the ones who had partly destroyed his home… she could understand his point of view on that particular matter. Personal feelings aside, Satya could also tell he wasn’t going to let this go if she didn’t agree with him, so she moved towards him, flicking a brief glance at the door to make sure it was still closed, and brushed her fingers over his good hand. “I’ll be careful.” She said softly, and he smiled.

“Good!” He said warmly. “Can’t trust bots.”

“ _Some_ omnics.” Satya amended, and as Junkrat opened his mouth to argue, she quickly changed the subject. “Well, I suppose this is goodbye for now.” She said somewhat uncertainly, and his face fell.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Satya wondered what to do now – if this were a movie they’d passionately embrace before she left… although knowing how fond Bollywood films were of tragedy, this screenplay would probably have her killed in action and Jamison left to dramatically mourn and avenge her. Satya then decided that she would rather _not_ have a movie romance. Jamison seemed to be thinking hard, his brows beetled together as he looked at her and his fingers tight around hers. He brought his metal hand up, the tips of his fingers sliding through the end of her hair and Satya winced as they bent awkwardly and a few strands caught between the metal and his rubber grips and Jamison started, ripping several hairs out of her head.

“Oh shit.” He said, pulling the hairs from his metal fingers and dropping them to the floor as Satya rubbed the slight sting at her scalp. “Shit, I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright.” Satya took hold of his flesh hand and, in a moment of boldness, lifted it to her hair. “Perhaps you should use this one.”

His grin was crooked and pleased and so very tempting as he stroked his fingers through the black strands, and as he turned his molten gaze on her Satya became aware of warmth pooling in the centre of her belly. “Yeah, sounds like a better plan.” He murmured, then moved from her hair to her face, tracing gently from her temple down to her jaw, and Satya reached out herself to smooth a crinkle in his t-shirt – Angela had provided him with a number of clean items to wear in the medibay, and it was these neat clothes he was wearing now, looking startlingly out of place in crisp white against the gunmetal grey workshop. Not so clean, she amended, noting the splotches of bright orange paint smeared across his new shorts – Gods only knew how’d he managed that, having barely been out of the medibay for half an hour.

He made a motion like he wanted to draw her closer, his expression both hopeful and questioning, and it filled her relief to see that he so obviously wanted to kiss her… it solved her own dilemma, and so Satya leaned down, bracing herself on the arm of his wheelchair until she was barely an inch from him, and tilted her head towards his. Jamison grinned crookedly and leaned in, and with the first brush of his lips came a rush of intense satisfaction. Satya sighed against his mouth at the realisation – a small burst of recognition inside her mind that she truly did want it. The kiss was gentle, an exploration of his mouth and her hand threaded into his hair, while his encircled her waist.

A tranquil silence had draped over the room as Satya pulled back, looking through her lashes to find Jamison looking up at her, a dreamy look on his face and his lips hitched into a content smile.

At that moment, Athena’s voice came echoing through the base. “Alert, departure to Hollywood in one hour, repeat, departure to Hollywood in one hour.”

Satya smiled ruefully at him. “I should go.” She breathed.

Jamison nodded, looking displeased. “I guess.” He grumbled, then looked like he was about to say something, before he faltered and changed his mind. “See ya, Sat.”

“Goodbye.” Satya leaned down again to lightly press her lips to his cheek, letting herself linger there for a moment. “Be good… and stay safe.”

“Roight back atcha.” He mumbled, and later, when Satya sat on the dropship as it departed from Gibraltar, en route to Hollywood, she couldn’t help but feel as though she’d left something important behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the number of people who Know is rising
> 
> also!! if you're a fan of symmrat and like yelling about it, why not come and join the [symmrats](https://discord.gg/GBKYzjY) discord?


	65. Tea Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat is left to his own devices

“When’re they comin’ back?”

“According to my calculations and Winston’s information, the estimated arrival time of the Hollywood mission team is eighteen hundred hours, February sixteenth. Eight days from now.” Athena’s cool, robotic voice paused for a moment. “You have now asked the same question thirty-six times in the past two days, and four hundred and ninety-one times since the Hollywood mission team departed. I must ask you again if you believe yourself to be suffering memory loss of any kind. If you do, I urge you to contact Doctor Zeigler. If you believe your memory issues to be increasing, I can initiate contact with a medical facility on the mainland-”

“Would you _shut up_ with the memory loss shit?” Junkrat snapped, absently scratching at Mullock’s ears; the cat lay curled up at his side, purring madly. “I ain’t losin’ shit! Just wanna know if the date changes, is all. Haven’t I fuckin’ told y’that already!?”

Athena’s tone sounded exactly the same, but he _knew_ she was mocking him. “You don’t know if you’ve told me that before? Memory loss is nothing to be ashamed of-”

“I’m not losin’ m’memory!” Junkrat scowled at the ceiling from where he was lying on the floor in his room, ignoring the very real memory problems he was well aware that he had – Athena was wrong. He might have been squashed like a bug but that didn’t mean his head was any more fucked than it already was. “How d’ya think it’s goin’ for ‘em, anyway?”

“I was in contact with Winston at thirteen-hundred hours today.” Athena informed him. “He said that the mission was going smoothly, and that they’re on track to return on time.”

“Good.” Junkrat mumbled darkly, not liking the bot-related mission _one bit._ “Hey, d’ya know where Hog is?”

Athena was silent for a moment while she checked. “Agent Roadhog is in the gym.” She said, and Junkrat snorted.

“‘Course he is. Gonna go see him, I reckon. Ta, Athena.”

Athena said goodbye and fell silent as he set Mullock on his bed then clunked out of his room, relishing each step that he took unaided. It had been four weeks since the Hollywood mission began, and three weeks since he’d felt steady enough to walk solo around the base. He’d been confined to his wheelchair for a few days (until he’d recalibrated his peg leg and regained enough equilibrium to actually walk with it), and while he’d taken extreme delight in roaring down the halls at top speed, having got into the innards of the thing and modified it to go _extra_ fast, he gloried in the feel of being able to walk by himself, and similarly, being able to walk around without Roadhog shadowing him – the big man had taken his talks with Mercy seriously, and for the first week and a half had pissed Junkrat right off for being an overbearing prick, but now that Junkrat had managed to prove that he could last a whole day without collapsing in a heap, Hog had eased off and things were more or less back to normal.

His arm had taken longer to figure out – while it looked whole and complete, his fingers were sluggish, slow to respond when he tried to curl them, and he had dropped quite a lot of shit before he had managed to fix the prosthetic. It had taken many hours of his time, hours spent happily absorbed in the joy of building things (even if he wasn’t building anything explosive, he still enjoyed it), and had finally fixed it. As he walked along to the gym, Junkrat flexed his fingers and revelled in their rapid response; after time spent without his arm all together, and then with it not working properly, he delighted in every quick response and agile movement of his metal fingers.

Junkrat reached the gym to find Roadhog in the middle of a workout, with weights upon weights piled upon the barbell and sweat gleaming on his skin. Even from the doorway Junkrat could hear Roadie’s laboured breathing, and when Hog spotted him he put the weights down and reached for a can of Hogdrogen.

“G’day.” Junkrat said brightly. “Thought y’might be lonely, here all by y’lonesome. Didja miss me?”

Roadhog snorted and took another breath from his canister as Junkrat giggled to himself and went to fiddle with a treadmill.

“Seen Robin Hood today?” He inquired. “Or Snowball? It’s _borin’_ , havin’ no one around.”

“Nuh.” Roadhog was occupied in adding more weights to his barbell, and Junkrat knew trying to talk to him while working out was a lost cause. Of course, knowing that didn’t always stop him, but he itched to talk to someone and have them talk back; he’d gotten too used to constant socialising at Overwatch, and to be left behind for a mission with Hog (not the most social bloke), Hanzo (who wouldn’t deign to reply if his arse was on fire), and Mei (who talked to him now, but still tended to frown in a way that made him feel like he’d done something wrong if he crossed a line he didn’t know existed). The problem was, he was bored. He’d already jacked off today and he didn’t feel like thinking about Satya in that way again, because it only highlighted the fact that she wasn’t there. Junkrat decided to go see where Mei was instead; she might be better company, if she was in a good mood and wasn’t busy. He’d tried talking to her while she was doing her climate shit before, and that hadn’t ended well.

Having enthusiastically informed Roadie of his plan, Junkrat scurried out of the gym and stood rubbing at his chin for a moment, wondering where Mei would be. She sometimes came to the workshop but he knew she hadn’t been there today; the labs were the safest bet. She spent lots of time in there, and had her own wing in which she did lots of computer stuff and shit with the weather.

Junkrat reached Mei’s lab and slapped the intercom button impatiently.

“Hello?” Mei’s voice issued from the speaker after a slight pause, and Junkrat grinned.

“G’day!” He called cheerily into the intercom. “How y’goin’?”

The door slid open, allowing entry and revealing Mei seated at her desk, surrounded by several monitors and floating displays all showing complicated graphs and long lists of numbers.

“Hi, Junkrat.” Mei said, eyeing him a little warily as he bounced into the room and began to examine a floating graph. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Bored. Hog ain’t bein’ talkative, so I thought I’d come see what y’were doin’.”

“I see.” Mei brushed her fringe back and smiled. “I’m only compiling data today; nothing very interesting.”

“Oh.” Junkrat frowned at a stream of data but as it was beyond him, he soon lost interest. “Y’gonna be doin’ that all day? Seems borin’.”

“It’s not boring to me. It’s interesting.” Mei showed him a graph. “See this is my current research; climate conditions have been changing rapidly over the last half a century, and it was my team’s job to find out why-” Her words trailed off and her expression sobered. “I mean, it’s _my_ job now.”

“Why?” Junkrat asked, completely unable to take a hint, as per usual. “Have a fallin’ out, didja? They try t’take the credit? Or did _you?”_ He chortled to himself but faded to silence when he caught sight of the look on Mei’s face. “Uh… sorry, Snowball, I was only jokin’-”

“They died.” Mei said very softly, and Junkrat could have kicked his own arse.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, and she visibly shook herself.

“It’s okay.” Mei looked down. “I’ve come to terms with it now.” She looked up, brows raised inquisitively. “I’m surprised you don’t know, though. Hasn’t anyone here mentioned it?”

Junkrat scratched at his chin. “Uh… they mighta.” He admitted. “But I don’t remember.”

Athena chimed in at that moment. “As I’ve mentioned, memory lo-”

“Fuck’s sake, mate! Will y’can it with the memory loss bullshit!?” He barked, glaring around at the ceiling in a search for the cameras Athena used as her eyes.

Mei giggled. “Why does Athena think you’re losing your memory?”

Junkrat sighed, defeated. “Look, I already know my memory’s shot t’shit. Always has been. But Athena’s convinced havin’ a buildin’ dropped on m’head’s made it worse.” He scowled at the ceiling. “But it _hasn’t_.”

“Acknowledged.” Athena replied, in what Junkrat thought was a cheeky tone.

“I see.” Mei brushed her fringe back again, before her face turned slightly more serious. “Do you know how old I am?”

Junkrat opened his mouth to reply before realising he should _not_ answer that, and snapped it shut quickly, fixing her with a suspicious look. “…Trick question.” He said finally, and Mei smiled.

“Not a trick question. Guess.”

“Uhhh…” Junkrat rubbed at his jaw as he scrutinised the lines of her face. “Mmm… y’in yer twenties?” He asked cautiously, and Mei lifted one shoulder, a slightly evil smile on her face.

“I'm forty.”

Junkrat's jaw dropped. _“Bullshit."_

Mei giggled. "That's very flattering." She said with a laugh as Junkrat attempted to cover his blunder.

"Holy shit, I mean, y'don't look that old, how the fuck are y'forty, for Christ's sake, uh, not that forty is _that_ old, really-" He laughed nervously as Mei raised a brow. "Forty is young! Forty is uh, young. Y'look just roight for y'age...  which is forty... um-"

Mei's lips twitched. "I'm thirty-one."

Junkrat stopped in the middle of his sentence and stared. "But - y'just said-" He immediately began to wonder if Athena was right after all and he was losing his fucking mind.

“Well, it can’t hurt to tell you.” Mei murmured to herself. “Everyone else knows.” She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I was locked in cryostasis for nearly ten years. I have existed on this earth for nearly forty years, but biologically, my body remains thirty-one.”

Junkrat’s jaw dropped again. “ _What?”_

“It happened in Antarctica.” Mei’s expression turned sad. “I was with a team of climatologists, researching weather phenomena at the watchpoint there. There was a polar storm. It was terrible; it cut off communications, our supplies, everything. We began to run out of food and we knew we were faced with a choice; cryostasis or starvation. We chose cryostasis, but… Overwatch collapsed shortly after, and with everything that happened with Overwatch, Blackwatch, Gabe and Jack… no one came looking for us. We were in cryostasis for years, until my pod activated on its own and I came out of hibernation. My teammates… over the years, their pods had failed and they died without even a chance to – to-” She took a shaky breath and was silent for a moment, composing herself.

“Shit, Mei, I had no idea.” Junkrat was wracking his brains furiously, trying to work out if he’d ever been told this. He had a vague association of Mei with Antarctica, but did he remember anything about cryostasis? He was buggered if he knew. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Mei’s mouth lifted slightly. “You don’t call me ‘Mei’ very often.” She said, with an obvious attempt at humour. “I should tell you more sad stories.”

Junkrat giggled. “Maybe!” At that moment, Mei’s little weather drone buzzed over and any further words died in his throat as he eyed the little round thing with distaste.

“Snowball won’t bite.”

“Hmph. Dunno ‘bout that.”

At that moment, the doors hissed open and Hanzo stepped into the room, only to pull up short at the sight of a Junker leaning casually against a bench. The archer frowned slightly, and turned to address Mei as Junkrat interestedly glanced at the tray he was carrying.

“Tea’s ready, Mei.” Hanzo’s voice was wry. “Did you forget?”

Mei looked startled. “Oh, is it four already? I’m sorry – I got distracted.”

“Tea?” Junkrat inquired doubtfully. “Those’re weird cups for tea.”

“They’re called _yunomi_ cups.” Hanzo said rather disdainfully, as Mei got to her feet.

“I’m sorry, Junkrat.” She said apologetically. “Ah-” She rocked on her toes for a moment, clearly not wanting to be rude. “Would you like to join us?”

Junkrat probably would have said no (there was a batch of grenades waiting for him in the workshop), but the look on Hanzo’s face made it too delicious a chance to pass up, and his face split in a mischievous grin. “Cheers, Snowball!”

They settled on the green grass overlooking the cliffs, sitting around the tea tray. Hanzo did the honours, pouring out the tea, and Junkrat snatched up his cup eagerly, only to nearly drop the fucking thing.

“Ouch!” He put his burnt fingers into his mouth and frowned at Hanzo. “It’s fuckin’ hot!”

“That’s why normal people wait for it to cool.” Hanzo said with a frown, to which Junkrat rolled his eyes.

“Guess that’s why _normal_ people invented handles.” He said blithely, using his metal hand to pick up the cup as he ignored the narrow-eyed look Hanzo was giving him. “So how’s it, Robin Hood?” He asked.

Hanzo raised a brow. “You mean-”

“How was y’ _day_ , or whatever.” Junkrat spat disgustedly. “Just tryna be social. Don’t hafta, if it’s below ya.”

Hanzo eyed him coldly. “My day has gone well, thank you. I trained this morning, and talked to Genji.”

Junkrat perked up at that. “Oh yeah? How’s Hollywood goin’?”

“Not badly.” Hanzo sipped his tea neatly. “He says it’s been rather boring, aside from the odd protester.”

“Hmm.” Junkrat blew at his steamy tea, then essayed a cautious sip. It was quite good, actually. “Bloody hell, this shit’s not half bad. Y’make a mean cuppa, mate.”

Hanzo looked rather amused. “I’ll assume that’s a compliment.” He said, but the icy edge to his voice was gone. Mei rolled her eyes rather dramatically.

“ _Men_.” She said disgustedly, and Junkrat and Hanzo shared a look.

“What about ‘em?” Junkrat asked curiously, and she grinned.

“Oh, you know. Testosterone poisoning, most of the time.”

“Funny.” Junkrat responded without thinking. “Only poison I’ve been used to is radiation.” He then realised what he’d said, and blanched.

 _“Radiation?”_ Mei echoed, looking horrified, and he hastily tried to fix his mistake.

“Bad joke, Snowball. I’m only kiddin’.”

Mei did not seem convinced. “I’ve studied the Outback in detail.” She said frowningly. “The devastation there has caused a lot of unusual weather phenomena. I know what radiation has done to the landscape, _and_ the people. Do you actually have…?”

“Nah, course not.” Junkrat said with a strained grin.

“Your hair.” Hanzo said. “Doesn’t radiation make hair fall out...?”

“Roadie’s hair’s fine, innit? Radiation’s got nothin’ t’do with it.” Junkrat snapped; Hanzo had touched a nerve. “Got shit genetics, is all. M’dad was bald as a bloody egg.” This was a blatant lie; his father had hair in the photos Satya had found for him.

“Oh.” Mei blinked. “That’s good. Radiation poisoning – it’s not pleasant.”

“I know that.” Junkrat growled. “Y’think I’ve never seen anyone die of it?”

A deep silence followed, and Junkrat dropped his half-drunk tea to the tray and shot to his feet. “M’goin’.” He scowled, and marched off before Hanzo and Mei could say anything further.

He stomped to his room and flung himself onto his bed to fume, and with nothing else to do (and wanting a way to distract himself from his conversation with Mei and Hanzo), he shoved an indignant Mullock off the bed, stuck his hand down his pants and started to whack off instead.

 

* * *

 

It took the Hollywood mission a further six days to wrap up, and Junkrat spent the whole of the day of their arrival floating on air, happily counting down the moments till Satya got back and he could spend time with her _properly_.

It was the height of injustice, in his opinion, that he should be forced to spend _weeks_ in the medibay, unable to see Satya except during her brief visits and then finally be released, only to have her packed off on a four-week long mission barely an hour after he’d been given his all clear! It was the most bullshit thing he’d ever heard, and he was so excited to see her return he’d had to have a wank twice already, in a vain attempt to contain himself.

The dropship was due in at four, and as it was now ten to, Junkrat was nearly vibrating. He paced back and forth in the workshop, ready to dart down there as soon as he got an indication of the ship’s arrival, but he knew discretion was the name of the game, and so he would wait for Satya to get to somewhere more private before he greeted her.

Athena’s voice came overhead. “Agent Tracer has just requested permission to land.” She said. “They’re back.”

Junkrat beamed to himself and tried to stay where he was. A few minutes passed and just when he was thinking that he, not the most patient man alive, was going to explode in a second, his phone rang in his pocket. Curious, he dug it out of his shorts and when he recognised Satya’s caller ID, he nearly dropped the damn thing in his hurry to answer it. _God_ , he had it bad for her.

“G’day.” He greeted her enthusiastically, and when Satya’s voice sounded in his ear his heart rose like a balloon; he’d texted her as best as he was able while she was in America, but it didn’t compare to hearing her voice. Fuck, he had it _bad_.

“Hello, Sanjay.” Satya said, her voice pleasant and professional, and his heart sank like a stone.

“What?” Junkrat exclaimed incredulously. “This ain’t Korpal, Sat, it’s-”

“Yes, I know.” She said in that same, pleasant tone.  “How is Delhi at the moment?”

 _I know,_ she’d said. Slowly, it dawned on him. “Wait, are y’pretendin’?” Junkrat asked. “Are the others there?”

“I am, and they are.” Satya replied, sounding pleased with him. “I’ve just arrived back at Gibraltar.”

Excitement burned through him. “Ah… you wanna come visit?” He asked.

“I’m afraid I can’t do a report just yet.” She said, and his heart landed somewhere around his toes. “I have a briefing to attend, but I’ll get to that report immediately afterwards.”

Junkrat perked up again. “Oh yeah?” He asked huskily. “When d’ya reckon that’ll be?”

There was the hint of a smile in her voice. “I believe Winston said we should be briefed for an hour. I’ll be able to report to you _properly_ then.” The significance Satya placed on the word _properly_ made his heart skip a beat, and Junkrat grinned giddily at a grenade.

“Rodger that, Sat. I’ll see ya then.”

“Goodbye, Sanjay.”

He utterly resented the fact that she’d had to call him Sanjay to keep their call private, but he understood why she’d done it. Satya was a private sort of person. It made sense for her to keep a potential relationship on the quiet side until she was sure of things.

…An hour longer, though. A whole damn extra hour he had to wait before he got to see her beautiful face. Fuck that monkey, and his peanut butter too. 

The hour passed by excruciatingly slowly, but eventually his phone dinged and Junkrat seized it eagerly from where he’d been lying on the floor, practically vibrating from increasing impatience. The text was from Satya, and he greedily drank in her words.

 **{96856} Symmetra**  
Finished. Where are you?

 **{11873} Junkrat**  
workshop

He scrambled to his feet and darted out the door, in a rush to find her. Junkrat scurried on down to the workshop as fast as his legs could carry him, and when he got there he found it empty. Impatience burning through him, Junkrat ripped his phone out of his pocket and dialled Satya’s number. She picked up on the first ring, which sent giddy delight spiralling through him.

“Hello?” Satya sounded a little tired, no doubt from her flight, but her voice was no less wonderful to hear by it.

“G’day.” Junkrat greeted her happily. “Was wonderin’ where y’were.”

Satya lowered her voice just a little. “I’m on my way to the workshop.”

“Yeah? The hangar corridor?”

“Yes, I’ll be there shortly.”

Junkrat hung up on her as he darted down the corridor, and then he turned a corner and saw her. Satya was dressed in her blue Vishkar uniform and wheeling a suitcase while carrying a laptop bag, and her _legs_ (the first time he’d seen them all winter) just about knocked him for six.

She was also alone.

Junkrat forgot to think about what he was doing, and didn’t even respond to Satya’s greeting; he merely strode towards her, swept her into his arms and pinned her against the wall with a kiss. Satya dropped her bags to the floor with a clatter as she gasped against his mouth and went stiff, but when he released her lips to growl out “Missed you,” into her throat, she gasped again and slipped her arms around his neck as she kissed him back. Satya was warm against him as he explored her mouth, his hands roaming over her hips, and then he got bold, tracing his flesh hand down over her bare thigh. The kiss deepened as Satya made a slight, soft sound in the back of her throat and he ached for her. Junkrat rolled his hips forward with a growl and Satya gasped into his mouth and arched into him, and he got bolder, tracing his hand along the back of her thigh, beneath the slitted blue of her skirt. He stopped just shy of her black undershorts and gripped a handful of soft thigh with a happy sigh before he growled against her mouth as her fingers smoothed along his chest, but then she pulled back, her hands lifting to cup at his jaw. They breathed quietly together for a few moments, and Junkrat willed his heartrate to slow, and as his higher cogitative function returned, he realised just how _much_ he was touching her.

“That was quite the welcome.” Satya breathed, the corners of her lips tilting up in a smile.

Junkrat giggled quietly. “Ain’t over yet, love.” He grabbed her suitcase and laptop bag and arched his brows at her. “C’mon, Sat, I’ll give y’a hand with y’bags.”

Satya smiled. “Thank you.” He fell into step beside her, and so entangled with the bliss of seeing each other again, neither of them noticed Hanzo, who had been coming up the corridor behind them in search of Satya, and who now stood stock still, his mouth hanging unbecomingly open with shock.

Junkrat wheeled Satya’s suitcase to her room and once inside, put it on the end of her bed at her direction, together with her laptop bag.

“So, how was Hollywood?” He asked, and Satya shook her head and came to stand beside him, eying him critically.

“Oh, no you don’t.” She said firmly. “How are _you?_ When did you get out of your wheelchair?”

Junkrat giggled at the thought of the wheelchair, now heavily modded with welded-on spikes and other interesting additions – a Junker had to have a ride fit for a Junker, after all – and left for Mercy in her office. “Yeah, I’m fine now. Only took me a day or two t’fix m’peg, an’ she’s all good now.” He rapped on the hinge of his knee with his metal knuckles for emphasis, and grinned at her. “I’m fine now, honest. How was Hollywood?”

“It was decent.” Satya looked thoughtful. “Some protests, but not a lot. We managed to find the source of a large protest that was coming up and shut it down, so that was something. Glitchbot was very grateful to us; we were given tickets to the premiere, and-”

“You _went?”_ Junkrat interrupted, scandalised.

Satya patted his hand, her expression amused. “It was fine, Jamie. We were all armed. It was completely safe.”

“Hmph, okay.” Junkrat said, still unconvinced.

“So how did you entertain yourself for the last four weeks?” Satya inquired, moving to unzip her suitcase. Junkrat stared at her, mouth suddenly dry; with her standing like that, half bent over with her neat white shirt unbuttoned just enough to give him a glimpse of just the tops of her gorgeous tits, he could think of nothing other than all the jacking off he’d done to _entertain_ himself, and he couldn’t admit _that_. He started to sweat, and dragged his gaze away long enough to think of something else.

“Bombs, mostly.” He mumbled. “Annoyed the piss outta Hog. Talked t’Snowball. The usual.”

“I see.” Satya was unpacking her belongings as he went to sit on her bed to watch her curiously; Junkrat marvelled at how the clothes inside her suitcase were neatly folded, and if something looked rumpled, she actually _refolded_ it before she put it away. Satya got to a certain piece of clothing, looked at him quickly and then averted her gaze, and grabbed the item and put it in her wardrobe very fast; but not too fast for Junkrat to see the silk and lace she held. Her underwear. He was instantly assailed with visions of her draped in said silk and lace, and with his self-control shot entirely to hell, he reached out as she passed him on her way back to her suitcase, and tugged her onto the bed beside him.

Satya laughed, a husky sound that made his dick stir in his pants as she gripped his arms for balance. “What are you doing?” She asked, and Junkrat leaned forwards to touch her face, very lightly.

“Missed ya.” He said simply, and Satya’s face softened. She leaned in to press her lips to his cheek for a long moment, and then she pulled back, brushing her hand through his hair as she did so.

“I missed you too.” She said fondly. “I was wondering what you’d get up to with no one here to monitor bad behaviour, and I missed having my Jamie to talk to.”

Junkrat glowed on the inside. “Hog was here.” He said with a grin.

“Poor Roadhog doesn’t see outside his sphere.” She said with a laugh. “You get away with a lot unless you actually annoy him.”

Junkrat giggled at the thought and Satya smiled at him, and while he was still distracted she slipped from his grasp and returned to her previous task of unpacking her clothes, neatly avoiding his attempts to get her to come and sit on the bed again.

Junkrat watched as she pulled a sleek laptop from its case and placed it on her desk, going so far as to adjust how it lay so it was perfectly parallel to the edge of the desk. She was unbelievably neat.

“Y’got plans for the rest of the day?” Junkrat inquired, for he had plans of his own, and they all revolved around getting her into this bed somehow and staying there for the next three hours.

“Oh yes – I’m going to go to the workshop and catch up on things there, and then I have to call Sanjay and check in with him-”

Junkrat had deflated at the thought of her leaving, but then his eyes narrowed at the latter part of her sentence. “Korpal? The fuck are y’callin’ _him_ for?”

“I haven’t left Vishkar yet.” Satya said calmly as she refolded some slacks. “They mustn’t know that I’m planning anything, so that means I have to report to them as usual, or they’ll get suspicious.” She paused. “Well, they’re _already_ suspicious, but I think they expected something else to happen soon after I went to Toulouse. This lull in activity has confused them, and that’s why it’s important I keep up my reports as though nothing is wrong.”

“Oh. Don’t like it though.” He muttered darkly.

“I don’t much either.” She admitted, placing neatly paired socks in a drawer. “Speaking to Sanjay knowing that he’s lied to me for all these years makes my skin crawl. I do it knowing there is a day coming when I’ll be able to stop, and he won’t have a hold on me anymore.”

“So what’s happening with the arm, anyway?” Junkrat asked, momentarily reminded of the plan.

“Torbjörn’s got the blueprints. I haven’t done anything with it since we went to Hollywood, because of course we were busy with the mission. He didn’t go on the mission with us, so he’s been working on it alone. I’ll see what he’s come up with when he returns tomorrow. We’re going to have a meeting in Winston’s lab.”

“Ah.” Junkrat thought for a moment. “Still don’t really see how y’gonna keep Vishkar from siccin’ their lawyers on ya when y’rock up with a new arm.” He admitted. “Hard light’s protected, innit?”

“It is.” Worry carved a line between her brows and he didn’t like it at all. “We’re just… going to try to make them see that going after me when so much of their illegal activities could be publicised is a bad idea, and hope for the best.”

“And if blackmail doesn’t work?”

Satya’s expression was nervous and yet decided. “I run.” She continued to fold a shirt as she talked. “I don’t know where or how, but I will. I won’t be their puppet any longer.”

“That’s m’girl.” Junkrat said warmly, and Satya laughed.

“ _Your_ girl? Is that right?”

He grinned broadly at her. “Y’gonna disagree?” Unconsciously, he tensed while waiting for her answer; if she said yes, it would be… devastating.

“No.” Satya mused. “I don’t suppose I will.” She finished putting away her clothes and pulled out a bag from within her suitcase, which turned out to have her make-up in it. Junkrat watched with interest as she unpacked her various cosmetics, most of which he’d never even heard of, and though they talked, there was a chill descending on the room. Satya looked at him often as she went about her unpacking, and though it pleased him at first, Junkrat began to feel slightly uncomfortable, and after several minutes spent wrestling inside himself, he realised that because he didn’t have a single solitary clue as to how to go on, he was feeling _nervous_.

Nervous, hesitant – and rather self-conscious.

He was completely and thoroughly disgusted with himself for the emotion, but Junkrat couldn’t deny that he was in completely unfamiliar territory right now and that meant he could do either one of two things; he could plunge in headfirst like he always did, and fuck everything up, or he could sit and think and try to do things properly.

Seeing as it concerned Satya and he _definitely_ didn’t want to cock things up with her, he needed to think and to plan and _then_ to act. The only problem was, he didn’t know where to begin.

Junkrat had never been in a relationship before. Hell, before Satya, he’d barely been kissed. Foul breath and rotting teeth tended to discourage that sort of thing, and kissing tended to be intimate, much more intimate than a straight fuck, and that wasn’t really anything he’d had in the Outback. He figured probably ninety-six percent of his previous sexual encounters were prompted by financial gain (on both his side and his partners), and those that weren’t stemmed from lust, pure and simple. None of those encounters had any sophistication about them, and it was starting to seriously worry him – Satya had sophistication in spades, and so if their flirtation went further, wouldn’t she be disgusted with him if he didn’t know any other way to act than he had in the Outback? She wouldn’t want a rough fuck, he was sure – she would want reciprocation, for a start. That was also an alarming thought – Junkrat honestly couldn’t recall having sex in which both he or his partner got off. It was always one or the other, the one with the goods making a bargain with someone bereft of said goods, to use the other’s body as they pleased. He couldn’t do that with Satya, he was sure, and so… how would he know what to do? What to do _right_ , that was. He could think of plenty of things to do when he had Satya naked in a bed, but whether _she_ would think those things acceptable was a different story entirely.

Speaking of which, when they did have sex (he was choosing to assume they would, resolutely ignoring the timeline in which they didn’t), how would it even be initiated? He didn’t think Satya was one for casual sex, and yet what they had now was as far away from the rough, fumbling encounters he’d had in Junkertown as you could get. He’d never been in a relationship – he only had the vaguest idea of what that even entailed. Junkrat worried his lower lip with his teeth as he watched Satya carefully hang up her Vishkar uniform, and thought furiously about it. Before, it had been fine to talk to her and flirt with her and (finally) snatch a kiss or two. But now? There was a growing expectation, surely, unless everything between them had only been building towards some kisses, and he wasn’t satisfied with that. He wanted more – he just didn’t know how to get it.

Relationships – how did they work? Was he supposed to ask Satya to go out with him? Shit, what if he’d missed his mark and the usual time for asking had passed him by? Did Satya privately wonder why he didn’t seem to want to take things further – was she insulted? Angry? Assuming that he didn’t want anything serious, or worse, that he didn’t want her? Questions with no answers swirled around in his brain until he couldn’t take it anymore and he shot to his feet with a lurch. Satya jumped at his abrupt movement, her eyes wide.

“Jamison?” She asked, taking a step towards him, and Junkrat made for the door. “What’s wrong-?”

“Sorry love – just remembered – left a timer on in the workshop.” He spun on the spot and touched her face quickly before he completed the turn and slapped the button to open her door. “Gotta shut it off - don’t wanna blow up the base this early in the day –see ya later!” With that, he scurried out the door and down the corridor, without even giving her a chance to reply. Hopefully, she’d buy his excuse about him having to go turn off a timer when in fact, he was off to look for Roadhog.

He found his bodyguard in the kitchen, making a snack while McCree lounged against a counter and made recommendations, which explained the dripping, multi-layered monstrosity of a sandwich taking pride of place amidst a profusion of empty jars; Junkrat eyed the mess with distaste and then confusion as he was informed it was a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich – confusion which wasn’t cleared up until he managed to work out that McCree, for some stupid reason, called Jelly _Jell-o_ instead, and Roadhog was actually eating a peanut-butter and _jam_ sandwich, which was only marginally less gross than the peanut-butter and sliced jelly layers he’d originally envisioned.

Junkrat plastered himself to Roadie’s side as the latter placidly spread jam on yet another slice of bread, evidently going for his seventh layer, and shouted in a whisper that he needed to talk _right the fuck now._

Roadhog sighed under his breath, made a threat against Junkrat’s miserable life if he’d broken anything important, and scooped up his sandwich to depart, to the detriment of whoever else would come into the kitchen and be confronted by all that mess. Junkrat eyed McCree suspiciously as they left, half-suspecting that the cowboy was eavesdropping, but he seemed more interested in his cigarillo than in gossip, though Junkrat didn’t let down his guard until they were safely ensconced in Roadhog’s room. With the sandwich placed safely on Hog’s desk, Junkrat vibrated with impatience as the larger man set about unbuckling his mask to eat more comfortably. It was a painful choice to make – jam tiny mouthfuls through the small hatch in his mask, or take it off and labour to breathe whilst able to eat properly. Hog only ever chose the second option when there was no chance of being interrupted, and Junkrat bounced up and down on his toes in agonised suspense, knowing from previous experience that Hog would ignore him altogether if he spoke before the mask was off. He managed to contain himself until the mask settled on the desk, and then the dam burst and words poured forth, and Junkrat hurriedly and messily explained the feelings and thoughts he’d had in Satya’s room just now, and finally ran out of breath and shut up to anxiously await Roadhog’s opinion.

Roadhog kept him in suspense too, the miserable fat bastard, taking a mouthful of sandwich and making a thoughtful noise over the wheezing breaths that were so much more pronounced now. He reached for his Hogdrogen and – _wait_. Junkrat blinked and looked again, for Roadie was not huffing his usual stuff. This canister was sleek and silver and –

“Angel wings give ya that, did she?” He asked curiously, and Hoggie nodded, but didn’t elaborate. He took several more long, deep breaths of the new stuff, and put the canister down.

“Take her out.” He rumbled, and Junkrat blinked.

“Angel wings?” He asked stupidly, and Hog snorted.

“ _Satya_ , y’fuck. Take her out.”

Junkrat was silent for a moment, mouth opening and closing wordlessly as he was assailed with several thoughts at once. His first thought was that Hog sounded much better than he normally did when he had the mask off, and the second thought, which happened pretty much at the same time as the first, was sheer horror at the suggestion that he _assassinate_ Satya.

 _“_ What the _fuck!?”_ Junkrat blustered. “What – why – _what_? – what the shit would I do that for!”

Roadhog regarded him with perplexity written over his newly exposed features. “Why not?” He rumbled. “Y’like her.” It seemed to be easier for Hog to talk with his new stuff he was on, but Junkrat steamrolled the thought as he scrabbled for a reply.

“I know that!” He whispered furiously, too angry to even shout. “That’s exactly why I ain’t gonna kill her, y’fuckin’ lunatic-” Junkrat paused as Roadhog started to laugh, a deep, rasping sound that devolved into a horrible rasp, and watched his bodyguard take a restorative huff with deep suspicion.

“Y’really are a moron, Fawkes.” Roadhog shook his head and turned back to his sandwich. “A date, y’bloody great dickhead. Take her out on a _date_.”

Junkrat stared, mouth half open in an indignant but long forgotten response. “A… date?” He mumbled at last, and Hog nodded.

“Ask her out. That’s what normal people do.”

“Oh.” Junkrat considered this for a long moment, then regarded Hog with curiosity. “That’s what people do?” He asked warily. “Just – ask each other out? Then what? How’s that make anything more  - more _real?_ Christ, this shit is confusin’-”

“Y’go on a few dates.” Hog interrupted, giving his new canister an approving glance as his voice remained steady. “Decide if y’like each other or not. Decide if y’wanna give it a go.” He paused for another deep breath of his new gas. “Three’s the norm, more or less. Y’get a fourth date, shit’s goin’ well. Y’talk t’her. Talk about y’feelin’s an’ what-have-ya. Decide t’make it official or not. _That’s_ what y’do.”

Junkrat stared, disconcerted. On the one hand, that was one of the longest speeches Roadie had ever made without his mask on to aid his breathing, and he was curious to know what the hell Mercy had given him. On the other… a date. With _Satya_. God, he hadn’t even known what to do a few minutes ago but now he wanted it so much he felt like he was gonna burst.

“Oh.” He said finally. “Aight. Sounds… legit. I might… do that.” His mind was turning busily, trying to work out exactly what to do. “Oi, Hog… what are y’sposed t’do on a date?”

Roadhog sighed and stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth, before dosing up on the new shit again, and putting his mask back on. When he had completed all this, he finally spoke. “I dunno.”

Junkrat, who’d been waiting in keyed up silence for whatever pearl of wisdom Hog was about to drop, nearly exploded, but Hoggie held up a hand and Junkrat shut his mouth with considerable difficulty.

“It’s _your_ date, y’plonker.” Roadhog rasped through the mask. “I ain’t gonna tell ya where t’take her. Figure that shit out on y’own.” Roadie stood up and collected his plate before he made for the door. “Somethin’ t’eat, maybe. Coffee. Somethin’ she’ll enjoy. Think about what she _likes_.”

With that, he left the room without a backwards glance, and Junkrat was left to his own perplexed and nervous devices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I think you can all tell where this is going, and exactly what is going to happen in the (rather enjoyable) next chapter :)


	66. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie asks Satya out and things go better than he was expecting

 “So, our next port of call is…” Winston paused. “Angela.”

Satya turned to look at the doctor from her seat across the conference table. They were having their second briefing in two days; this briefing included the agents who hadn’t gone on the Hollywood mission, including Torbjörn and Lena, who had both arrived back this morning. Angela, who evidently hadn’t expected to hear her name, was looking at Winston with a slightly confused expression.

“Yes?” She asked, and Winston adjusted his glasses.

“Angela, you’ve been busy with your work lately and we haven’t wanted to distract you, but now that you don’t have any patients, we can address this.”

“Address what?” Angela’s tone was still confused, and Winston sighed.

“Junkrat.” He said, making the Junker in question start in surprise from where he’d been absently scribbling in his notebook.

 _“Me?”_ Jamison asked, visibly bewildered. “What have I got t’do with the doc?”

Satya looked across at Angela, who now wore a slightly wary look.

“Angela.” Winston said slowly. “We know that Junkrat is alive. He’s sitting right here. Except, Ana says that he wasn’t.”

“Now, don’t go making me sound accusatory, please.” Ana cut in. She set her tea cup down quite deliberately. “Angie, this isn’t an attack of any sort, you do know that?”

Angela’s eyes were slightly narrowed. “Oh?” She asked very precisely.

Ana sighed. “I don’t pretend to know as much as you do; I’m not a doctor. I am medically trained though, and I know when there’s no bringing someone back. But you brought Junkrat back.” She tapped her fingers on the table for a moment. “It wasn’t just your skill as a doctor, Angela. You’ve developed something new, haven’t you? An innovation in nanotechnology. Something none of us have seen before.”

Angela’s lips thinned. “I have.” She said shortly. “Though I don’t much like being interrogated about it.” Ana opened her mouth to respond but Angela held up her hand to silence her. “I don’t mean anything by it, Ana.” She said quietly. “I have my reasons for not telling you all.” She took a deep breath and asked for a moment to compose her thoughts, and Satya’s gaze went to Jamison.

He looked scared. No, not scared – _worried_ , about whatever was about to come to light, and Satya wondered what it would feel like to know that medically, you shouldn’t be alive. His gaze slid to hers for a moment and she offered him a slight smile, one she hoped was comforting, and the corner of his mouth lifted in response, before Angela began speaking and his attention shot back to the doctor.

“I’ve been conducting a series of experiments.” Angela began. “No… that isn’t right. I have to go further back. I’ve been… thinking on the concept for years, ever since I began working in applied nanotechnology.” She paused to gather her thoughts. “I have the ability to bring people back from the brink of death, but I’m a doctor. The worst thing in the world is losing a patient. I’ve always wondered, could I find a way to save a patient who has gone _past_ the brink? I’ve never been certain I’d be able to do it.” Angela laughed, despite the grim set to her mouth. “About two years ago, I had something of a breakthrough. My caduceus staff… I have the ability to treat life-threatening illness and injury in ways that past medicine has only dreamed of, but I was trying to see if I could go _beyond_ that. My staff can heal even the most horrific injuries, yes, but even it won’t work if the patient is dead.” Fire flashed in her eyes for a moment. “For the record, I resent being asked this in front of my patients. Don’t you realise how distressing it could be to have your death picked apart like this?”

Everyone in the room turned to look at Jamison, who was an alarming shade of pale, his eyes huge. “I’m good.” He croaked, and when Winston attempted to say he could leave if he wanted to, he dismissed the offer and stayed put.

“Well.” Angela said reluctantly, her worried gaze directed at Jamison and his fingers, rapidly tapping against the desk as they were. “If you’re sure.” When he nodded, she continued. “Ana is right. Junkrat _did_ die. His injuries were catastrophic. The moment I saw him I knew that I couldn’t save him… with any normal treatment.” She paused and pushed her fringe out of her eyes. “I said I’d been conducting experiments.” She said very carefully. “It’s quite involved, but the abridged version is more or less that I have figured out a way to use my nanotechnology on non-living flesh.” Angela smiled. “The first time I had a success was when I cut a raw steak in half and used my research to fuse it back together.”

Satya gasped at this mental image, and so did most of the others in the room.

“I won’t go into detail, but I have devised a way to use my nanotech in conjunction with an artificially created electrical current. This current is… well, think of it as a whole-body defibrillator. I managed to create a current that syncs with the natural current found within a living body. Instead of jumpstarting only the heart, this synthetic current jumpstarts all muscle activity, brain function, the heart, the lungs… all the internal organs. At the same time, my nanotech is working to heal the worst of the damage. I would explain it by saying that the patient is kept in suspended animation in which their body is _artificially_ alive instead of _actually_ alive, until my nanotech has healed the patient enough that their body can take over… and I end the process and all organ function resumes.” Angela stared around, as though daring someone to question her. “It’s a more extreme version of life support.”

“That steak… in those moments when I had my staff activated, it _was_ alive. Once I turned it off it ceased to function, of course, but that tissue behaved as though it was still a part of the animal it used to be. While the tissue was alive, my nanotech had the ability to repair wounds as per usual, and so the steak fused back together. I ran countless experiments, and just before the recall happened, I had graduated to… killing rats and bringing them back.” She grimaced as several people around the conference table made noises of disgust. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always loathed the thought of animal testing… but to test on a person… I would need to be there right when someone died from trauma and severe injuries, and that simply isn’t possible when you’re trying to do experiments in a controlled environment. I was in Iraq before I got Winston’s call. I’d been setting traps and killing the rats I found, as _humanely_ as possible, Hana, don’t look at me like that, please, and bringing them back.”

Angela frowned. “It isn’t a foolproof method, I must tell you all that. Junkrat was in organ failure when we got him out of the rubble, but brain death hadn’t occurred, and that’s the only reason I was able to bring him back at all. All the innovations in the world wouldn’t have helped if he was already brain dead. I could have brought his body back but I haven’t figured out away past brain death. He’d have been in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.”

“Oh.” Jamison said weakly, drawing Satya’s attention. He was looking slightly green, she was alarmed to see. “I, uh, I’m gonna go outside.” He giggled, but the sound was off. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, doc, but this is fuckin’ me up.” He got to his feet and hurried out the door before anyone could respond, and Satya wanted to follow him, concern in every fibre of her being. She made herself stay where she was; she wouldn’t help anything by going after him and making a spectacle of herself.

Angela had half risen to her feet as she watched Jamison go, concern similarly written on her features. “I _told_ you this shouldn’t have been brought up here. Not with Junkrat in the room.”

Winston adjusted his glasses, looking uncomfortable. “I hope he’ll be all right.”

Roadhog surprised everyone when he spoke. “Just needs time.” He rumbled. “He’ll be fine.”

“Oh.” Winston looked back to Angela. “I see. It is important that we discuss this, though. Angela?”

Angela still looked concerned, but she brought herself back to the topic at hand. “There’s not much more to be said. I’m in the _process_ of developing this new technology. I wasn’t hiding it from you on purpose; I just thought it was wise not to shout about the potential ability to bring people back from the dead if it didn’t work.”

“But you’ve used it before?” Morrison inquired. “Or not?”

“I haven’t, actually.” Angela stood straight and tall, her face composed. “Junkrat was the first person I’ve ever used it on. It was my last resort; I didn’t even know if it would work. The alternative was just… letting him die. I had to _try_.” There was a slight but detectable tremor in her voice at the end of her speech, and Jesse, who was sitting next to her, sprang to his feet.

“‘Course y’did, and we’re all glad it worked.” He sat her down in her chair and sat down himself as he patted Angela’s shoulder reassuringly. “Aren’t we?” He added with a glare.

There was a murmur of assent.

Satya sat still, fingers clutching the arms of her chair in a death grip. Angela hadn’t been sure it would work… Jamison really had been close to death. He _had_ died… but Angela had brought him back.

“And Hanzo and I?” Mei asked quietly. “You could have used it on us? If it was needed?”

“Of course I would.” Angela replied, emotion strong in her voice. “You _know_ I would. It’s just fortunate that your injuries weren’t as severe as Junkrat’s.” She paused for a long moment. “So what now?” She asked, a hint of defiance in her tone. “Will you tell me to stop?”

“No.” Winston spoke over Morrison and Ana. “No, we won’t. This kind of technology could be extremely useful. Just… can you give us updates on the situation when they arise, Angela? And that goes for anyone else with anything hidden.” He added, eyeballing the whole room. “We don’t need _too_ many surprises on the battlefield.”

There was another murmur of assent, and then the topic of Angela’s new ability was more or less wrapped up, and the briefing moved on to the next topic on the agenda.

When the briefing was over, Satya followed Angela down the corridor as the doctor moved towards the medibay, clearly lost in thought, until she caught up to her.

“Angela?” She said softly.

“Satya.” Angela smiled slightly. “Can I help you?”

“No – I just wanted to… thank you.” Satya tried to put all the words she couldn’t say into her expression as she reached out to touch Angela’s hand softly. “Just – thank you.”

She turned and hurried away, ignoring Angela’s voice behind her.

She found Jamison at last up on top of the launch pad; he’d climbed the ladders to sit on the very highest walkway, dissecting several grenades.

Satya stepped out of the elevator and moved along the walkway to where he was sitting. “Jamie?” She asked softly, and he looked up at her with an abortive attempt at a smile.

“Hey, Sat.” He replied, tapping at a grenade with a screwdriver. “What’re y’doin’ up here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were all right.” Satya neatly folded herself to the ground, trying not to think about the potentially filthy walkway. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just weird, y’know? Listenin’ t’the doc go on an’ on about it. Sayin’ I shoulda died. Sayin’ I _did_.” Jamison’s mouth twisted up. “Don’t like that much.”

“I don’t blame you.” Satya reached out to brush her fingers over his hand. “I don’t think anyone would.”

“Yeah.” Jamison nodded with her, but his eyes still held a haunted look, and so Satya sought to distract him.

“What are you doing with these?” She asked, and he lit up, as expected, and it made her smile to see it.

“Oh, nuthin’ much. Just pullin’ the insides out an’ swappin’ it all ‘round.”

Satya blinked. “Is that safe?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jamison hesitated slightly, then took her hand in his with exaggerated casualness, and began to play with her fingers. “Simple stuff. They’re all the same, see? Same batch, same insides.”

“Then what’s the point?” Satya asked, amused.

“The point? Eh… I dunno, really. Just somethin’ t’do. It’s fun, see, relaxin’.”

“I suppose.” Satya watched for a moment as he bent her fingers towards her palm, then ran a calloused fingertip over the smoothly polished edge of one of her long nails.

“Pretty colour.” He noted, rubbing the gleaming blue oval softly. “Neater than mine.” He added with a giggle, displaying his own worn black nails.

Satya captured his hand in both of hers to examine them. “I couldn’t stand having chips like these.” She said with a slight laugh. “I like my nails to be perfect. I repaint them all when I find a chip.”

Jamison giggled. “Just one chip? Y’must have t’redo them a fair bit.”

“Oh yes.” Satya agreed. “Once a week, at the very least.”

“Ugh. Too much effort f’me!”

Satya ran her thumb over the chipped surface of his index nail. “I can see that.” She said, amused, and then noticed that more of the polish was chipped than she’d previously thought – and the reason for that was that underneath the polish, the nail was _black_. Satya frowned and bent her head, peering at all his nails in turn, and realised that _all_ of his nails were black.

“What happened to your nails?” She asked. “Under the polish, I mean. They’re… black.”

Jamison instantly snatched his hand away. “Oh, uh. It’s nuthin’, Sat, really-” He faltered somewhat under the suspicious arch of her brow, then sighed. “It’s radiation poisonin’.” He admitted.

At her horrified sound, he flung both hands up, palms out, in a beseeching manner. “It’s nothin’ t’worry about!” He pleaded. “It’s fine, Sat, I promise.”

Satya moved closer, horror and worry fading to make way for anger. “What do you _mean_ , it’s radiation poisoning?” She demanded, taking hold of his chin to make him meet her eyes. “You’re sick? Have you seen Angela? Are you getting treatment!? Jamie, you need to-”

“I’m fine! I promise ya, Sat, I’m not sick.” Jamison hesitated for a moment, and looked at his nails. “Uh, well, I guess I am.” He giggled for a moment, but there was no humour in it. “I’m on medication.” He explained. “Angel Wings gets it in for me. I was on Voxiformin Perinitol in Australia but once I got here an’ she found out she got me the good shit. Shit y’can’t get back home. Not in the Outback, anyway. I’m gettin’ better, I promise.”

Satya eyed him narrowly, panic at his illness and anger that he hadn’t told her warring within her. “You’re getting better?”

“Yeah!” Jamison grinned at her. “M’hair isn’t so bad now, haven’t y’noticed?”

She _had_ noticed, but as Roadhog’s locks were thick and lustrous, she hadn’t put Jamison’s scraggly hair down to radiation poisoning, as she’d have assumed that they’d have the same symptoms, having been exposed to the same radiation. _Gods_ – now that she thought about it, Roadhog had black nails too. She’d just assumed it was an aesthetic choice. Jamison was right though – his once prominent bald patches were covered with downy growth in most places, and though he’d have a while to go before his hair could be said to be evenly distributed across his scalp, it _was_ much better. “I didn’t realise-” She whispered. “Gods, Jamie, how bad could it have been?”

The grin slipped from his face. “Pretty bad.” He admitted. “But y’know, I got more fucked up than most people.” At her questioning glance, Jamison elaborated for her. “I uh, went fuckin’ about in the bad places. The places no one goes, ‘cause you’ll uh, die.” He pursed his lips. “In the omnium. Lookin’ for scrap.” He shrugged at her outraged expression, and picked at a loose thread on his shorts. “It was just business, y’know? Lookin’ for good scrap t’sell so I didn’t starve. Was runnin’ outta places t’scavenge; most of the good shit’s been picked clean.”

“Oh, Jamie.” Satya said softly, taking his hand in hers again. “You did that on your own? Without Roadhog?”

“Didn’t know him, then.” Jamison shrugged. “Y’know, I’d seen him around. Heard of him. Kept t’himself, mostly. But I, uh, found somethin’, an’ y’know me; couldn’t keep m’trap shut if I tried. Ran m’mouth a little too much an’ the Queen got interested. Had t’scarper then. Promised Hog I’d split the loot seventy-thirty with him if he protected me. He agreed. Drives a hard bargain, that bloke does.” Jamison wrinkled up his nose. “‘Cept for some reason the bastard thinks we shook on fifty-fifty.” He giggled a bit at the thought. “Left Australia t’get away from the Queen an’ all her cronies. They woulda gutted me. Had a bit of fun after we left, but uh, it was because of the Queen.”

Satya sat still for a moment, absorbing this. Of course she’d heard of the mysterious Junkertown Queen who kept herself hidden from the outside world, ruling over her patch of earth with a ruthless fist, but to know she’d been after Jamison? Suddenly, Satya didn’t like this Queen at _all_.

“So going into the omnium poisoned you?” She asked softly.

“Nah, I was already sick. So’s the whole of Junkertown. Every Junker’s on Voxiformin. That shit’s more precious than gold. Goin’ into the omnium just tripled the dose.”

Satya stared at him, eyes wide with horror.

“It’s okay, love.” Jamison said, shifting closer so he could cup her jaw softly with his flesh hand. “I’m on a shitload of tablets. Take ‘em every mornin’, mostly. Used t’just take the Voxi but Merc said it was only holdin’ the symptoms at bay an’ she’d get me somethin’ better, an’ she did. She scans me every month an’ everythin’, same as Hog-”

“Scans you?” Satya interrupted suspiciously, and Jamison suddenly looked sheepish.

“Uh. Yeah. Scans me. Y’know. For cancer.”

Satya started and he grabbed her arm, panic flashing over his face at her expression.

“Shit, _no_ -” He said hurriedly. “I’m fine, Sat! Cancer free. Merc’s makin’ sure of it. She says she can fix me even if I do get it, so no worries, ay?”

“I will be worried if I want to.” Satya said fiercely. “If you get _cancer_ -”

“I won’t.” Jamison said in what he clearly thought was a reassuring tone.

“You’ve never mentioned this before.” She said in an icy voice, and Jamison ducked his head.

“Yeah… didn’t want ya t’worry, Sat. Didn’t want anyone fussin’ over me, t’be honest. Merc knows ‘cause she’s doctorin’ me but before that only Hog knew, and only ‘cause he’s on the same drugs.” He shrugged. “We’ll be fine, though.”

Satya stared at him, her vision abruptly glassy from unshed tears, and she fought hard to contain them. “Stupid man.” She sniffled, and then lunged forward to bury her nose in his collarbone. Jamison made a surprised noise, but gathered her close. “If you die on me, I’ll kill you myself.” Satya promised, and he dissolved into mostly silent giggles that shook his chest and vibrated oddly against her nose, so she pulled back.

A thought occurred to her then. “What do you mean, you _mostly_ take your tablets every morning?” She asked suspiciously, and Jamison looked guilty.

“Oh. Uh, well, y’see, sometimes a bloke’s got other shit t’do. Sometimes a bloke might be busy, and uh, maybe that bloke might forget he’s got tablets t’take.” He winced at her expression. “Look, I know it doesn’t do me much good, but y’know m’memory’s shot.”

Satya pursed her lips and leaned in until his forehead nearly touched hers, cupping his jaw with her hand. “Jamison.” She said, very seriously. “I want to you to promise me you’ll take better care of yourself.”

His eyes widened and a pink flush stained his ears. “Uh… okay.” He croaked. “I – I promise.”

“Good.” Satya abruptly realised that even though they were at the top of the space shuttle walkway, they could be seen from anyone on the ground who cared to look, and she released him and peered around, but was relieved to see no one there.

Jamison was watching her with a strange sort of expression on his face.

“What?” Satya asked, and he quickly averted his gaze.

“Nuthin’.” Jamison hesitated, but the words escaped him anyway. “Sorry. Just uh, not real used t’havin’ people worryin’ about me, is all.”

Satya reached for his hand and held it tightly. “I suppose you’ll just have to get used to it.” She said, and he nodded, his smile soft.

“Yeah.”

Satya looked down at the hand within her grasp, and curiosity prickled. “Jamie-” She asked. “If your nails are already black, why paint them?”

“Oh, that.” He said breezily. “Hides it, y’know? Don’t get questions if it’s obviously nail polish.”

Satya nodded. “That makes sense. Jamie… if Angela finds something, you will tell me, won’t you?”

His expression became sober as he looked at her for a long moment.

“Yeah.” He said finally. “I will.”

 

* * *

 

A week had passed since Angela’s revelation, and it was still the most intriguing topic discussed over meals and at workstations. Satya didn’t particularly like to hear about it, considering that Jamison’s death and resurrection was extremely uncomfortable for her to think about, and so Satya was focusing on a new train of thought - Jamison himself.

He was acting strangely of late. One moment he was his usual cheerful, enthusiastically warm self, and the next he would stare at her almost disbelievingly, before falling silent, not in a cold way, but almost like he didn’t know what to say. This confused Satya, for in all the time she’d known Jamison, he always had something to say – whether relevant to the topic or not. She had wondered what was bothering him and if she should ask him, but hadn’t, so far. She didn’t want to push him nor force his confidence, and in any case, whatever was on his mind was not necessarily any of her business. Roadhog was his confidante – she trusted that they would sort it out.

Hanzo was also acting oddly – they’d talked quite a bit since she’d returned from the base but there was something clearly on his mind, something to do with her, since he never looked like that when he was with the others. She’d thought about asking him but had similarly decided not to – the conversation might get too awkward with a confrontation, and so she’d see if Hanzo resolved it on his own.

What was interesting her most at this time was the prototype for her new arm – the blueprints had arrived with Torbjörn, along with an experimental skeletal framework. Angela, with her degree in Cybernetics, had been enthusiastically studying the design, for Vishkar secrets were embedded in the device, and the doctor revelled in cybernetic advances even she had never seen before. Satya had already been for several brain scans and it was these scans that had their own floating monitors in Winston’s lab as they attempted to reverse-engineer similar neural implants to be compatible with her new arm. Satya now spent her days either at training, with Jamison in the workshop, or pouring over the new designs and planning how she wanted her arm to look when it was completed.

In order to avoid any first glance impressions of the prosthesis being directly copied from Vishkar’s copyright, the new arm was going to look completely different – still white, for Satya liked the sleek, polished appearance, but with gold accents, no protrusions on the shoulders, no visible black under-plates, and most importantly – no visible lens in the palm. It was though this lens that her hard light would be projected, and Satya rubbed the blue crystal in her palm absently. Torbjörn and Winston were confident that, once they had cracked exactly what produced hard light and had broken it down into complete understanding, Satya could apply these properties and design a reverse lens – rather than a lens that sat on the outside of the palm to magnify the hard light, the lens would be embedded within an opaque but totally unique piece of ‘metal’ in her palm, that would make it appear as though her arm was an ordinary, run of the mill cybernetic – until she produced hard light with it.

Lúcio and Torbjörn both thought it was an excellent joke; to trick Vishkar into thinking that Satya no longer had access to hard light, when the ability was tucked away inside her all the while, was a thoroughly enjoyable thought. That was where she was headed now; to the lab, in order to spend a few hours with Torbjörn and Winston and Angela working on the prosthesis. Satya was just rounding a corner when she heard a distinctive step- _click_ , and she paused, waiting for Jamison to catch up.

He came hurrying around the corner, an uncharacteristically anxious expression on his face, and for a moment, watching him freeze when he saw her waiting for him, she thought he must have broken something again and was fleeing from an enraged Morrison.

“Satya.” He gasped out, looking nervous, and then he reached out for her hand, thought the better of it, dropped his hand, then reached for hers again before he twitched back and put his metal fingers safely behind his back.

“Jamison?” Satya looked down the corridor behind him, concern overriding everything else. “Are you okay?” She laid her hand on his arm, worry knitting her brows together. “Has something happened?”

“Nah – I was – I was just lookin’ for ya.” Jamison took a very deep breath and held it for a long moment. “I, uh – uh – I wanna ask y’somethin’.”

“But nothing is _wrong?”_ She needed clarification, and a weight was lifted from her shoulders when he shook his head.

“Nah, it’s fine, I just, um-”

“Jamie, what on earth is the matter?” Satya took his elbow firmly and lead him into a more secluded part of the corridor. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Look, I just wanna ask y’somethin’, but-”

“Why are you _sweating?”_ Satya asked rather too candidly, and Jamison giggled weakly.

“Christ, Sat, I dunno. Ignore me, I’m just bein’ a dickhead.” He took a deep breath, and Satya paused and waited, concern mingling with amusement, for Jamison to gather his thoughts. His face was flushed a dull red as he stared at her, ears burning and fists clenched nervously at his side, and he looked for all the world as though he was setting the date with his executioner. As she watched, he took a deep, gulping breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and spoke so fast his words blurred together.

“I-was-wonderin’-if-maybe-y’d-like-t’go-out-sometime-or-downtown-or-somethin’-I-dunno.” Here he paused to gulp in another breath, eyes still shut, and continued. “No – no pressure though.” Jamison’s voice was uncertain, and then his nerves got the better of him again and the rest of his words poured out in a rush. “I-was-thinkin’-maybe-we-could-get-somethin’-t’eat-if-y’wanna-but-we-don’t-gotta-if-y’don’t-wanna. ‘Course-it’s-all-up-t’you-if-y’don’t-wanna-we… don’t have… t’go… anywhere...?”

Satya listened to the trembling query tacked on to the end of this remarkable speech with a mixture of pity, delight and amusement. To think he was this nervous about asking her on a date! For that was most certainly what it was, and why he was so nervous. It was incredibly sweet, in a way. Then, what he was asking her really sank in and Satya bit her lower lip, thinking. Jamison cracked open one eye with the air of a man about to receive his death sentence, saw her apparent look of doubt, and promptly closed it again.

“Never mind, then.” He said quickly, eyes still closed, though now a look of dejected misery was creeping over his expression. “Silly idea. Shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Jamison forced an uneasy giggle from his throat and then turned as though to hurry away, and Satya reached out to grab his hand. Jamison froze at the contact and looked down at their linked fingers like he couldn’t quite make sense of it, and Satya smiled in amusement as he whipped around to stare at her.

“You aren’t going to wait for my answer?” Satya asked, unable to help the glee showing in her tone. Jamison narrowed his eyes slightly in a befuddled sort of way as he registered it.

“But… I thought…” He pulled himself together with a visible full body shake, then gave her a grin filled with uncertainty. “‘S that a yes, then?” He was beginning to sound excited.

“Yes.” Satya smiled at him. “Where were you planning on taking me?”

Jamison looked rather like a stunned mullet, as though he’d never in a million years expected her to reply positively. “Oh… um… uh…”

“Jamie.” Satya arched a brow. “You do have somewhere in mind?”

“Yeah!” He said a bit defensively. “Sorta… Hoggie said…uh…” He immediately looked like he wanted to kick himself in the shin.

Satya couldn’t help her smile. “Was this Roadhog’s idea?”

“No!” Jamison looked about as though for help. “Well. Sort of. Roadie made me ask.” He amended, and Satya arched her other brow to match the first.

“He _made_ you? So it’s you who doesn’t want to go anywhere?”

Jamison now looked like he wanted the ground to open and swallow him up. “No! No, that’s not it, Sat.” He said urgently, tripping over his words in his rush to explain. “Me an’ Hoggie were talkin’ ‘bout it the other day an’ he reckons I gotta do it proper. Not that I wasn’t gonna in the first place but today he said ‘no time like the present’ an’ kicked me outta the workshop t’find ya.” He gave her a nervous look. “Was gonna ask y’out, truly. Just maybe… not… today?” His final words were small and sheepish, and Satya decided to put him at ease.

“Well, I would enjoy going ‘somewhere’ with you very much.” She said earnestly, and smiled to see the joy break over his face.

“Yeah?” Jamison took a step closer, his fingers twining with hers.  Satya had to look up to take in his face, the position reminding her yet again of how deliciously tall he was when he straightened out of his terrible posture. “That – that’s good. Um…” He wore an expression of intense contemplation. “How ‘bout Tuesday? Uhh… could meet ya in town?”

“Where would you like to meet?” Satya asked practically, her mind ticking over her wardrobe and what she should wear.

“How ‘bout at the pier?” Jamison wore the expression he generally had when he’d just had a very good idea, though as those ideas generally involved explosions, Satya wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. “The, uh… the pier, the pier… uh…” he snapped his fingers rapidly, evidently trying to recall the name of it. Giving up, he gave her a grin and pointed vaguely in the direction of the mainland. “The big one. Y’know?”

Evidently, he meant the largest pier visible from the base. “Yes, I know. Very well, then. I’ll see you there. What time?”

“Three.” He answered promptly. “It’ll be better in the afternoon.”

Satya raised a curious brow. “What will?”

“You’ll see.” Jamison grinned at her. “On Tuesday.” His accent mangled the word, she noted fondly, transforming ‘Tuesday’ into something like ‘Tues-dee’.

“You are a man of mystery, Jamison Fawkes.” Satya said amusedly. “I’ll see you there.” She looked around then, noting that he’d sprung this upon her in the middle of her heading to the labs to discuss the new designs for her arm. “But I’m busy at the moment. I’ll have to go. I’ll be back in the workshop in an hour or two, if you’re there.”

Jamison wore an expression of giddy delight. “I’ll be there. See ya, Sat.”

Satya leaned in and kissed his cheek briefly, then turned and left him looking thrilled. She found herself immensely distracted by him; rather than focus on the task at hand and what she was planning on saying to Winston when she found him, she instead found herself thinking about Jamison. A date. She had just agreed to a date with him. A date with _Junkrat_ , one half of an internationally renowned criminal duo. _Hmm_. Compressing her lips, Satya decided that maybe she was wanting in good taste. Still, she found herself walking along with a smile on her face and butterflies in her stomach.

She rounded a corner than paused as someone called her name, and waited as Hana came puffing into view, her expression excited.

“Satya!” She cried, and then, having caught up, her expression became decidedly mischievous. “So. Hot date on Tuesday, huh?”

Satya froze. “How did you-”

“Oh, is it a _secret?_ Maybe Rat should find better places to ask you out than the middle of the hallway.” Hana grinned and waggled her brows. “So. You and Rat, huh?”

Satya sighed slightly, which Hana seemed to take as confirmation.

“Hm. Lu did say so, but I kinda doubted it, not gonna lie-”

“Lúcio?” Satya stared. “How does he know?”

“Rat told him.”

Satya goggled at this startling piece of information, and then, grabbing Hana’s arm, dragged her bodily through the halls to Satya’s room. Once safely ensconced inside, in no danger of being overheard, she pushed her hair back and demanded more information.

“I dunno why Rat told him.” Hana shrugged slightly. “I think it was an accident though. Something about you letting Rat into your room?”

Heat rushed into Satya’s cheeks, and Hana’s eyes got very wide.

“Oh!” She giggled. “You _did!”_ Curiosity came over her face then. “But how’d you guys get together? No offence, but I don’t think I’d have picked you guys to be a couple.”

Satya sighed and sat down on her bed, and Hana came to sit beside her. “None taken. To be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure either. And we aren’t a couple, not really.”

Hana looked sly. “But you’re going on a date with him…?”

Satya nodded. “Yes, I suppose I am. It – it’ll be our first date.” She laughed slightly. “Gods. Where on earth is he going to take me? He’s told me what passed for relationships in the Outback. I’m not sure the word ‘date’ was even in his vocabulary before he left Australia.” Somehow, it felt cathartic to be discussing this, like she could properly express things to Hana in a way that she couldn’t to Jamison.

Hana giggled. “I don’t think so either.” She agreed. “He might take you to a demolition site.”

They both laughed at that. Satya wiped under her eyes, and glanced towards her wardrobe. “My Gods, what will I wear? I only have business clothes here! Can you imagine showing up to a date in a Vishkar suit?” Hana doubled over from giggling, and Satya had to stifle her own laughter. “It isn’t funny!”

“It’s hilarious!” Hana wheezed, and then pulling herself together, she sat up. “You know what I’m gonna do?”

“What?”

“Take you shopping.” Hana said authoritatively. “You need the perfect date outfit. Get ready to play dress up, because we are gonna find you the kind of dress that’ll knock Rat flat on his ass.”

Satya smiled at the mental picture, for this was not a scenario she minded, not at all. “You think you’ll find something in Gibraltar?”

“I’d better-” Hana declared. “-or I’ll sue.” She giggled again, and then turned sly. “But you guys must have been doing _something_ , yeah? Or did Rat ask you out of the blue? I thought you said you weren’t a couple.”

Satya looked at her hands. “We aren’t. I – I know he has liked me for quite some time. He is very… _conversational_ , and… I don’t know. I ended up liking him more than I should.”

“How’d you find out he liked you?” Hana asked eagerly, face alight with the prospect of good gossip.

Satya’s face burned. “Swear to me you won’t tell a soul.” She demanded, and Hana made a cross over her heart.

“I swear!”

“He’d been drawing me.” Satya whispered confidentially. “And I found the drawings.”

“He didn’t!” Hana gasped and leaned in. “What sort of drawings were they?”

Visions of lingerie danced through her mind. “Nothing in particular.” Satya said hastily. “Just me. My face, usually. He’s much more talented than I would have given him credit for.”

“That’s so cute!” Hana enthused. “Does he know you found them?”

“He does.” Satya said archly. “Since I confronted him about them.”

“Oooh!” Hana made a scandalised noise. “He must have died.”

“He nearly did.” Satya allowed herself a private smile. “I told him he was being unprofessional and inappropriate, and to stop it immediately.”

Hana made a noise of confusion. “What? Why?”

“Vishkar.” Satya shrugged one shoulder morosely. “I would have… acted… on things much sooner if I was not an architech, I think. Vishkar would have forbidden it completely, and taken me back to India. I had to put a stop to things or risk my place.”

Hana looked as things were making sense. “Is that when you stopped talking to everyone?”

Nodding slightly, Satya looked at her hands in her lap again. “Essentially, yes. Vishkar had ordered me to. They suspected I was becoming close to certain people on the team. It didn’t exactly work out, as I think you have gathered.”

“Rat must have been unhappy.”

“He was.” Satya bit her lip. “But I had made it clear that it could go no further than friendship, and… that changed after Toulouse.”

Hana gasped. “Oh! So you leaving Vishkar means that you and Rat-”

“-can take it further.” Satya gave her an embarrassed smile. “Of course, there’s no guarantee that it will work out, but… I am free to try, at least.” Gods above, it felt good to get this off her chest.

Hana grinned. “Of course it will! Rat sounded so _cute_ when he asked you out. I was following him, ‘cause I passed him in the hall and his face was like, grey.” She paused to make a face and laugh. “He looked so nervous I thought he was gonna puke or have a stroke or both. I was gonna ask him if he was all right and like, take him to Angie or something, but then I heard him talking to you.” Her face lit up. “…Is his name really ‘Jamison’?”

Satya gasped. “Oh. You heard that?” She asked weakly.

Hana nodded. “Yeah. ‘Jamison Fawkes’, you called him. That’s his name?”

“It is.” Satya pulled herself together. “Hana. Promise me you won’t mention that to anyone, not even Junkrat. He’d be quite upset. Names are very personal for Junkers.”

“But he told you?”

“He did.” Satya gave an embarrassed smile.

“Oh.” Hana tipped her head to the side, considering. “So it’s because he likes you that he told you? That’s adorable! I won’t tell anyone, though.” She promised.

“Thank you.” Satya said, relieved, then turned her eyes back to her wardrobe to change the subject. “I could wear my saree.” She mused, but Hana shook her head.

“I wouldn’t. You’re meeting him at the pier, so maybe he wants to do beach stuff. Sarees are full length, aren’t they? It’ll get all sandy and wet.”

“That’s true.” Satya nodded in agreement. “But he doesn’t like the water, so I doubt he’d be doing ‘beach stuff’.”

“You don’t have to go in the water to do beach stuff.” Hana argued. “And what’s more romantic than walking along the shore? You should wear a shorter dress, like cocktail length, I think.”

This made perfect sense to Satya. “You’re right. I wouldn’t like to get sand on my clothes. But this means I’ll have to buy something to wear, if I don’t intend to wear business casual.”

“We’ll go tomorrow.” Hana said easily. “Rat said Tuesday, and today’s Sunday. We’ll shop Monday.”

“Thank you, Hana.” Satya said earnestly. “I’m sure you’ll be helpful.”

 

* * *

 

Monday had come and gone, and Satya, having shopped with Hana and found the perfect outfit to wear, was waiting until Tuesday afternoon, where she, Hana and an unsuspecting Lúcio were going down to the town. Lúcio was under the impression that he and Hana were going to see a movie, and Satya was tagging along for the ride so she could run some errands, whereupon they’d pick her up again to go home. She had no idea how Jamison was getting to the pier, but she had no doubt that he’d figure something out.

She also had her doubts about whether Lúcio was truly unsuspecting; she didn’t think Hana would be able to hold her tongue for long. Satya sighed and continued along in the direction of the pier, having been dropped off several minutes ago on the esplanade. She saw Jamison before he saw her – he was standing beside Roadhog, and when he saw her he flapped his hands frantically at his friend, and Roadhog moved off. He gave the appearance of leaving but with Jamison’s general abhorrence of appearing in public without protection, she knew Roadhog wouldn’t be far away. Satya didn’t mind – she was used to the idea of them being part and parcel.

Jamison was visibly brimming with nervous energy as she approached, fingers and peg leg tapping out anxious rhythms on the railing and the pier, and when he tried to greet her he had to do it twice – the first time, the words stuck in his throat and came out as a squeak.

“Sa – Satya.” He lifted his hand to a flyaway strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, looking surprised at his own boldness. “Y’look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” Satya answered him fondly, smoothing a fold of her skirt as the wind playfully kicked it up around her. “You look nice, too.” It was true; he was wearing the clothes he’d worn to the Christmas party. The clothes, donated by Jesse and evidently never returned, were slightly ill fitting, baggy on his lean torso and a bit short on his towering height, but the button down gave him an air he didn’t normally have, and Satya liked it immensely. A strawberry blush stained his cheeks but his smile was lopsided and addicting and she couldn’t resist reaching out to touch him; her fingers skimmed over a wrinkle he’d missed whilst ironing it (for it was very obviously ironed, a fact which impressed her immensely, considering the type of person he was), and Jamison’s fingers landed over hers, his eyes still roving intently along her form, and over her clothes, before they both dropped their hands, locked in each other’s gaze.

Hana had, true to her word, found the perfect outfit. Satya wore a deep charcoal skirt and a silky maroon crop top, whose long sleeves fell off the shoulder enough as so to not annoy her by catching on the protrusions of her prosthetic arm. She knew she’d surprised Hana somewhat by her choice in tops, but Satya was used to bare midriffs exposed by her sarees and the clothes she wore to dance – this was a much more western style of clothing, but it wasn’t anything out of her comfort zone. Jamison’s eyes wandered up, from the chunky wooden heels Hana had insisted she buy, to the skirt that ended just above her knees, to the strip of bare skin at her waist, and his ears flushed pink. His smile was delighted and only a little bit goofy as he reached out, and when Satya gave him her hand he looked at it like he had no idea what to do with it, and settled for squeezing lightly. Satya sank her teeth into her lower lip to conceal a grin and then intertwined her fingers with his as she stepped closer, using his body to shield herself from the wind. Her outfit both thrilled and terrified her – she never wore such casual items. Vishkar would have a fit – her entire wardrobe consisted of business wear and traditional items, and this outfit, which could only be described as casual, would garner immediate disapproval.

“So, Mr Mystery-” Satya stepped even closer to him, tilting her head back to take him in. “-where exactly are you taking me?”

His grin split his face, broad and infectious, and Satya couldn’t help her own smile. “That’s a surprise.” Jamison said excitedly. “Gotta wait an’ see, yeah?”

“Very well.” Satya looked about, wondering exactly where he was planning on taking her. “Which way?”

“This way.” Jamison was almost bursting with visible excitement; he tugged his hand from hers as he skipped a little way away, then turned back to her, his grin infectious. Satya followed, catching up to him after a few steps and falling into step beside him. They talked easily as they walked along, and as they left the esplanade and moved past the shopping district, Satya began to wonder where they were going. She refrained from asking, knowing how much he wanted to surprise her, and when Jamison, almost red in the face from preventing himself from telling her, gestured proudly at a large building settled into a picturesque garden.

“The Mario Finlayson National Art Gallery?” She read from the sign, then turned, brows delicately arched. “I wouldn’t have thought art was up your alley.”

Jamison sniggered, self-satisfaction oozing from every pore. “Nah, but it’s up _yours_.” He said with considerable glee, and led her inside. Distracted by the sculpture in the foyer (it had been deliberately designed to be asymmetrical, and Satya thought it was phenomenally ugly), she didn’t notice as Jamison asked and paid for tickets to a particular exhibition. He led her down the hall then, and Satya happily voiced her opinion on the more hideous displays, and stopped dead once she finally noticed the sign at the door to the exhibition.

 _“Architecture through the Ages_?” She read, then looked up at Jamison, her face glowing. “Jamie! How did you find this?”

He looked tremendously pleased with himself. “Hog did.” He admitted. “Well, sorta. He was on an’ on an’ on about findin’ somethin’ good t’do an’ not fuckin’ it up an’ I ain’t so good at things that don’t go explodey, as I think y’know by now.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “Hoggie said I should think about what y’like doin’, an’ I found this. Thought you’d like t’see it.” His grin turned shy. “D’ya like it?”

“I love it, Jamie. I’m so glad you found this.” Satya said earnestly, taking his hand and smiling to herself when her praise instantly made his smile look dazed and delighted at the same time, while strawberry pink stained his ears. She advanced into the room, where it appeared to be arranged in a chronological order of great and momentous feats of architecture through the centuries, beginning in pre-history. “Oh, look at this!” She dragged him through several exhibits, her love of architecture getting the better of her as she enthusiastically explained who certain architects were, how they’d influenced the practice as a whole, and how they’d influenced her. Finally, Satya stepped back from where she’d been examining a piece and talking excitedly about the rise of gothic design in Europe to find Jamison watching her with a small smile on his face.

“What is it?” She asked, suddenly embarrassed that she’d forgotten herself and had been talking for so long, but he stepped forwards, hesitating slightly before he reached out and touched her arm gently.

“Nuthin’.” That small smile remained, and he looked down at her hand as he took it. “I mean… it’s nice. Seein’ how much y’like this stuff.”

Satya smiled and moved a little closer. “I do like it.” She said simply. “Thank you for bringing me here. I had no idea this exhibit even existed.”

Jamison beamed. “That’s good.” He said in obvious relief. “That y’like it, I mean, not that y’didn’t know about the exhibit. Um… I’m real glad y’like it.” His voice lowered, becoming slightly husky, and Satya’s breath caught in her throat as his hand skimmed along her arm, stopping before he went too far, but Satya found she wanted to feel him. She lifted her own hand and laid it over his.

“You look nervous.” She stated quietly, mindful of the sprinkling of other people throughout the exhibit, some of whom had been giving Jamison’s prosthetic limbs and odd posture curious glances. Jamison’s expression quickly became startled, his brows shooting up his forehead.

“What? _Nervous_ , nah, not really.” He looked down at her very intently, stepping close enough that his side bumped gently against hers. “It’s just, y’know. Don’t wanna do… too much.” His expression turned frustrated as he tried to articulate his thoughts. “I mean, like, I wanna touch ya, but I don’t wanna, I dunno, move too fast. Do what y’don’t wanna. Y’know?”

Warmth seemed to blossom somewhere in her chest, and Satya couldn’t help her smile. “Thank you.” She breathed, and then firmly took his hand, feeling excited and bold. “But I want you to touch me.” She placed his hand on her waist and looked up when Jamison let out the breath he’d been holding and grinned at her, his expression so pleased it hurt.

“Yeah? Thank fuck for that.” He said fervently, turning her towards another exhibit as his touch became bolder, the light press of his hand becoming firmer as he slung his arm around her waist, holding her close. Satya was not always a fan of such contact but there in that moment, she felt content and, tucked against his side as she was, very small. It abruptly reminded her of how it had felt when he’d kissed her upon her return from Hollywood, and Satya looked towards the exhibits with a private smile on her lips as she thoroughly enjoyed just how tall Jamison really was. He’d certainly been much bolder during that kiss, and when coupled with his words just now, she could only suppose he’d gotten too carried away to control himself, and heat flashed through her at the thought.

He’d had to straighten up to accommodate walking with her tucked against his side, and meandering through an art gallery with a date who towered over her in ways he usually did not was not an unpleasant experience. He’d taken her at her word; Jamison was not a man to need to be told anything twice (unless he forgot), and his fingers roamed, stroking the exposed skin at her midriff and making her shiver as his warm touch skimmed over her hipbone. Jamison noticed; he looked down at her and grinned, and only drew her closer, and it was evident that all he’d wanted was permission, clear and unable to be misconstrued, and now he had it, he would not hesitate to touch her.

Dinner followed their eventual departure from the gallery, and Jamison, upon asking her worriedly if she liked seafood, had beamed in relief when she’d told him that although some Hindus didn’t eat fish, she wasn’t one of them, and he had towed her towards the esplanade, leading her straight to a tiny hole-in-the-wall shop, so small they didn’t even have seating. He had obviously eaten there before, for the shop owner greeted him by name, calling him Dave, which Satya discovered was the name on his debit card – David Snelling, to be precise. She wondered if the unfortunate Mr Snelling was in fact a real person whose identity had been absconded with, but Jamison assured her it was just the false name he liked to travel under, set up by some ‘blokes’ he knew. They ordered a veritable feast, and then Jamison led her to the pier, where they subsided onto a long bench overlooking the ocean and stuffed themselves full of freshly battered fish, crispy chips and an extra-large helping of tartare (Jamison’s idea).

Satya squeezed some lemon juice onto a scallop and popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes in bliss as it all but melted on her tongue.

“Mmm.” She opened her eyes and reached for another one. “These are wonderful.”

“Yeah?” Jamison eyed the scallops curiously; he hadn’t eaten any yet, having ordered an enormous slab of battered fish with his chips, along with a large helping of calamari, “What are they like?”

“They’re delicious. Here.” Satya squeezed a little lemon onto the scallop and then impulsively lifted the little crumbed ball to his lips. Jamison’s eyes darkened and he obediently opened his mouth to accept the scallop, his lips closing around the tips of her fingers and sending a bolt of electricity sparking through her as his tongue brushed over her skin. Everything around her seemed to dim slightly as she watched Jamison, the intensity of his eyes, the strong lines of his throat as he swallowed the scallop, the shape of his lips as they moulded around her fingers. Her own lips parted gently as a fission of heat sparked within her, and when Satya withdrew from his lips she lifted her fingers to her own mouth, tracing her lower lip gently.

Jamison’s eyes went wide and then he leaned forwards over the fish spread between them, cupped her jaw in his flesh hand, and kissed her. Satya made a brief noise of surprise but then her eyes slipped closed and she kissed him back, her hands coming to rest on his biceps. He tasted of fresh fish and tangy lemon and smelt of warm male and smoke, which mingled with the salty sea air. He was delicious, and she’d have kissed him for longer if some teenagers lounging about the pier hadn’t wolf-whistled at them. Satya broke the kiss and flicked an embarrassed glance at the boys who were grinning and laughing at them, and dipped her head to let her hair curtain her face. Jamison said something rude to the boys and got raucous laughter and Spanish jibes in return; he flipped them off and stuffed another wedge of steaming, mouth-wateringly delicious fish into his mouth in a clear effort not to retaliate further.

Satya smiled a bit self-consciously at him and he grinned broadly and offered her a chip, dripping with tartare. “Fair’s fair.” He said with a flourish of the chip, and Satya laughed and leaned forward to let him put it in her mouth. She deliberately put out her tongue, letting it sweep over the tip of his finger and smiled to herself at the half-lidded gaze he gave her, very clearly thinking of some other appendage of his that she could let her tongue drift over. She didn’t let herself linger on the thought for very long, thinking a public pier an unacceptable place to think about such things, and instead she held out another scallop for him. They fed each other in this manner for the remainder of the afternoon, laughing and giggling when chips broke or tartare plummeted to the ground, and it wasn’t until Jamison ‘accidentally’ got tartare all over her nose and ended up wheezing from laughing too hard at her expression, that they called it a day.

The sun was setting by the time Satya had wiped herself clean and touched up her foundation, and she came out of the beachside bathrooms to find Jamison lounging against a lamppost, a roll of fabric that he hadn’t had before tucked under his arm, making her raise a brow in inquiry.

“C’mon.” Jamison held out his hand and Satya slipped her fingers into his.

“Where are we going? And what is that?”

“You’ll see. Got a surprise for ya.” Jamison looked supremely pleased with himself, and Satya laughed and went along with it, letting him lead her down the steps until they’d reached the beach. The tide was in, and the setting sun lit the gentle waves with an orange glow. The dusk was beautiful and peaceful, and for some time, they wandered along the wooden walkway, which was helpful as it meant Jamison didn’t have to struggle through the sand with his peg leg. It came as a considerable surprise, then, when he led her off the walkway and proceeded to do just that.

“Where are we going?” Satya asked, still holding his hand as he pulled his peg out of the sand where it had sunk to take another step. “We can go back to the walkway-”

“Nah, love, it’s just here.” Jamison pointed, and Satya squinted in the growing darkness to see a little natural alcove hidden amongst the rocks, sheltered from both wind and prying eyes. It was in here that Jamison led her, and unrolled the fabric he’d been carrying to reveal a picnic blanket. He spread it on the ground and gestured proudly at it. “Ta-da! Thought y’might like t’sit an’ watch the sunset with me but I reckoned y’wouldn’t want t’get sand all over y’clothes.”

Satya smiled at him, impressed by such thoughtfulness in a man who could go a week without even noticing dirt on his own clothes. “That’s sweet of you.” She sat down beside him and Jamison immediately tucked his metal arm about her waist and turned his head to nuzzle briefly into her hair.

“Mm.” He said in a tone that was almost surprised. “Y’smell nice.”

That made her laugh, and Satya leaned in to find that Jamison had washed well for their date – he smelt of clean, warm male and soap, which mingled with minty shaving cream and just a hint of diesel and smoke, which apparently showers couldn’t quite wash away. “So do you.”

Jamison’s ears went pink and he grinned lopsidedly, squeezing her waist briefly, before he pointed at the sun, a glowing orb bright against the ocean. “Sure is gorgeous out here.” He mused. “Never had much time t’watch the sunset back home.”

“I suppose you were busy.”

He laughed. “Yeah, busy nickin’ shit an’ gettin’ m’arse kicked for it.”

Satya shook her head disapprovingly, which made Jamison laugh, and then they settled back to watch the sunset for a few long, intimate minutes. When at last the sun seemed fully submerged below the inky water, Satya turned in his grasp to face him, and, intent on ending this date on a good note, she took his face in her hands and leaned in to kiss him. Jamison kissed her back, his metal hand tightening on her waist as his other hand threaded into her hair, and Satya wound her arms around his neck. He kissed her lightly at first, but then, bolstered by her obvious want, the kiss turned deeper.

Satya wasn’t entirely sure how she ended up on her back with Jamison half on top of her and his tongue in her mouth, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. After all her fantasizing about him, all her late-night dreams indulging in what she’d never really thought would come to pass, having him kiss her so hungrily was electrifying, and the added illicit thrill of being technically in public only made the sparks inside her stronger. Warmth was pooling in her belly and when Jamison bit her lower lip with a growl in his throat Satya gasped against his mouth and kissed him hard for a moment, before rational thought caught up to her and she extracted herself from his grasp, panting slightly.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Jamison’s voice was husky and deep and the obvious need there was enough to make her toes curl, but Satya looked over his shoulder instead. They were very well sheltered, but she could see Roadhog in the distance, skipping rocks in the surf.

“This isn’t very private.” Satya murmured, smoothing a wrinkle in his shirt. “We’re on the _beach_ , Jamie. Too public for this.”

“Who gives a fuck?” Jamison said carelessly, his mind very obviously on other things as he ducked beneath her hair and set his teeth very gently into the curve of her neck.

“Oh!” Satya gasped and clutched at him as a tremor ran through her form, and he chuckled darkly beneath her touch.

“Like that, didja? Let’s hear y’do that again.”

Jamison proceeded to thoroughly ruin her; Satya’s neck had always been a hot spot for her, and she found herself melting beneath an assault of lips and tongue and teeth as he alternately soothed and abraded sensitive flesh, and she couldn’t have stopped her growing arousal if she tried. Her nipples peaked tightly against the lace of her bra and distantly, she wondered if he could feel them pressed against his chest. She couldn’t see how he wouldn’t, for each tiny movement of his body against hers sent tiny shockwaves of delicious pleasure through her with a gasp and she was sure her burgeoning arousal was just as obvious to Jamison as the growing firmness against her leg was to her. No matter how much she squirmed against him she couldn’t quell the soft ache between her thighs, and were she a different kind of person she may have sought to soothe it right then and there, but as it was, Satya captured Jamison’s hand when it crept a little too far up her skirt, and removed it with a whispered reproof pressed to his lips with a kiss.

This admonition hardly seemed to discourage him; Jamison simply took her by the waist and tugged her into him with a soft murmur of barely believable contrition before he made his way beneath Satya’s hair and meandered up and down her throat with teeth and tongue in such a way she felt as though she were nothing more than molten glass to be moulded beneath his touch.

It was growing very warm there in their little secluded spot, and as Jamison took her lips with a growl that sent a shock of heat to the pulse between her thighs, Satya let out a noise she would not have admitted was a moan, and it made Jamison freeze and pull back to look at her, his heavy-lidded gaze so impossibly _hungry_ as his gaze raked over her dishevelled form, lying there beneath him. It made her reach for him, her hands slowly rising along the planes of his muscular chest to loop around his neck and pull him down to her.

“When did you learn to kiss like that?” Satya asked in a murmur, and Jamison snickered.

“Yesterday.”

Satya’s eyes popped wide in shock as her mind darted to the only available conclusion; that he’d spent yesterday practising with someone else, but he soothed her fears in a heartbeat.

“Spent all of yesterday googling it. Videos. Tips an’ tricks an’ shit.” He admitted, drawing shapes on her bare shoulder with his finger and looking a little shy. “Wanna make it good for ya. I mean, didn’t think I was _that_ shoddy but like, there’s a fair bit I never really got t’practice, y’know?”

“I know.” Satya replied, both amused and flattered. He’d never been a _bad_ kisser, not exactly, but tonight had fairly blown her out of the water. She hid her face in his shoulder for a moment. “Well, whatever you did, it worked.”

A tremor ran through him. “Yeah?” His voice was rather hoarse, and Satya reached up to pull his face down to hers.

“Yes. Kiss me.” She breathed against his lips.

“Don’t hafta ask twice.” He said huskily, before he took her mouth in the kind of kiss that made her toes curl. Jamison was, if Satya was inclined to be picky, not the most polished lover. His kisses verged on sloppy, but Satya didn’t exactly mind; she’d never expected him to be terribly sophisticated about it. She was immensely attracted to him, and despite his unpolished and raw advances, she found that was more than enough to satisfy her; without polish or finesse, he simply gave her all of himself, and her body responded in ways she hadn’t expected. That being said, whatever he’d been reading had _definitely_ helped – he had confidence in spades where he’d used to be a little hesitant, and it was that which was making her melt beneath him. All of a sudden, she found herself wishing they were in her room so she could enjoy him properly.

No, Jamison might be unskilled and unpractised, but he was ardent and passionate, and though he was clearly experimenting to see what she did and didn’t like, she found herself giving her entirety to him. His hands roamed as his tongue flicked past her lips and Satya found that when she did the same she could make him groan and squeeze whatever handful of flesh he held that much tighter, and the thought excited her further still. He found the skin bared by her crop top and slid his fingers over her stomach, sliding up over her ribs delicately enough to tickle, but Satya was unable to laugh at the feeling of him touching her bare skin. His hand had slid to her back, raising almost to her bra strap and taking her top with it as his knee pressed insistently between her thighs, making her sigh at the pressure against her throbbing core. He was making it very difficult to think straight, with kisses that left her breathless and the treacherous knee, subtly grinding against damp lace and leaving her gasping, aching for more pressure against her most sensitive spot.

Satya felt as though she were made only of sensation; she was throbbing and aching and pulsing and wanted nothing more than for Jamison to soothe the mounting itch inside her but she couldn’t – they were in public, even if it was dark and they were hidden away, and so Satya regretfully broke the kiss, clinging to him as she struggled to control her breathing.

“Jamie-”

“Mm?” Jamison didn’t get the hint; with her mouth out of reach he ducked beneath her chin and did things to her that ought to be illegal, and it only made it that much harder to stop.

She sifted her fingers through his hair as a particularly pleasurable bite to her throat made her moan, and then tugged lightly on the blond strands, bringing his face to hers. Jamison, who still hadn’t got the message, immediately kissed her and Satya melted against him, kissing him back hungrily, before she realised his hand was creeping along bare thigh again and if she didn’t stop this now she’d end up far more naked than she intended to be, and so she braced both palms against his chest and shoved, harder than she’d meant to when they disconnected with an audible sound and Jamison fell back in the sand, brows drawing together in hurt confusion.

“Satya?” He asked, clearly befuddled. “What’s wrong?”

Satya didn’t answer him as she tried to straighten her skirt with shaky hands, moving a little further away on the blanket in a vain attempt to lessen the temptation to touch him.

“Hey – y’okay?” Jamison sat up too, and the total lack of self-consciousness he showed when he faced her with the prominent budge in his trousers on full display somehow forced her to forget her own embarrassment at getting so carried away.

“I’m - I’m good. Very good.” Satya brushed her hair back and gave him a somewhat confused smile. “I just - we need to stop. We’ll do things we don’t want to do.”

Jamison cocked a brow as he looked down at his straining erection and then gave her a grin, entirely unabashed by such lasciviousness as his gaze blatantly travelled down her form, lingering on her breasts, and when Satya looked down herself she was rather shocked to find that the neckline of her top had slipped down, giving him ample view of her cleavage.

“I dunno ‘bout that, love.” Jamison mused as Satya fixed her top. “Haven’t done half of what I wanna, yet.”

 _Yet_. That sent a fission of heat flashing through her, and Satya licked her lips slowly. “Perhaps I worded that badly.”

“Perhaps.” Jamison agreed, now moving towards her with a predatory gleam in his eye. He pulled her unresisting form into his arms and kissed her firmly, but when he tried to slip his tongue into her mouth Satya turned her face away. He made a disappointed noise which made her smile into his shoulder, before she brushed her fingers through his hair and informed him that they would get entirely too carried away if they continued on in such a manner.

“Feh.” Jamison huffed a sigh into her hair. “Got me dyin’ here, love.”

“You aren’t the only one.” She murmured, then immediately panicked at the thought of being too honest, but Jamison merely blinked at her.

“Crikey.” He croaked, then leaned in to bury his nose in her hair. Satya nestled against him, content to have her face hidden, and sat for a long, sweet moment. She discovered that if she moved her head down a little, she could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, and it was comforting in a way she couldn’t express, even to herself. After a long few minutes they drew apart with shy smiles and a chaste kiss, and began to prepare to leave.

Satya folded the picnic blanket while Jamison attempted to do something about his still visible arousal, and when at last they were presentable they headed back to the walkway, with Jamison looking about for Roadhog. Satya didn’t look back but she heard a third set of footsteps behind them, and knew he was following. The date seemed to be over, and they both knew it; Jamison walked her to the place that she was meeting Hana and Lúcio, and they paused to say goodbye, in the sheltering darkness of a shop awning, closed for the night.

“You, uh – I hope y’had a good time.” Jamison sounded almost anxious and Satya brushed her hand over his chest in an effort to reassure him.

“I had a wonderful time.” She said softly, enjoying the effect her words had on him; his eyes drifted half shut as a bemused yet pleased grin spread across his features. “I’ll see you in the workshop tomorrow?” She continued. “I’ll be there.”

“You betcha.” He promised, and then, with a brief look around to check for people who might be watching (there were still people about, despite the fact that the sun had set), he pressed a chaste kiss against her cheek. “G’night, Satya.”

“Goodnight, Jamie.”

Satya watched him meet up with Roadhog and depart with a fond expression, and to her surprise she realised they hadn’t actually left; they’d merely gone out of sight, and presumably they thought they couldn’t be seen, but she could see the top of Roadhog’s head from where they’d stashed themselves down the ramp that led to the food court of the outdoor mall. Such behaviour confused her, until Satya noticed Roadhog (and presumably Jamison, though she couldn’t see him from this angle) was looking towards her at periodic intervals, and it hit her; they were making sure she met up with Lúcio and Hana safely, before they left themselves, and it was so sweet of them it made her heart ache.

Lúcio and Hana took nearly half an hour to arrive after Satya texted the latter to let her know she was ready to leave, and from the looks of them, giggly and flushed and prone to gazing at one another with silly smiles on their faces, Satya rather suspected they had been on a date themselves, though Hana had assured her they were just going as friends. The time to herself was quite welcome; Satya used the half-hour to cool her cheeks and calm down, though a soft arousal still throbbed between her thighs. A quick glance to her side told her that Jamison and Roadhog had departed once they had seen Hana and Lúcio’s approach, and she smiled to herself as Hana caught sight of her and came bounding over, leaving Lúcio behind.

“How was your date?” She enthused, and behind her, Lúcio choked on a sip of his drink.

 _“Date!?”_ He hurried over. “What! Who with?”

Satya had to shake her head at the sight of the pair of them, noses practically quivering at the thought of gossip.

“With Rat, obviously.” Hana rolled her eyes. “Who else?”

Satya froze at such a casual revelation, while Lúcio’s brows shot up, but then he considered things and nodded, as though it made perfect sense. “Oh yeah? How was it?”

Satya arched her brows at such familiarity and turned to her usual standby when faced with social interactions she wasn’t quite sure how to navigate; her voice went frosty as she replied in a monosyllable. “Fine.” She said coolly, and Lúcio grinned.

“ _Ooh_ , Cold. Bad luck, Rat.”

Unable to formulate the proper response, Satya more or less turned her back on them, and waited for them to catch up as she headed towards the carpark. Thankfully, the subject was left alone during their trip back, though she caught Hana and Lúcio exchanging more than one gleeful look, after a quick glance at her. When they had finally returned to the base and Satya had made her way back to her room, she found herself showering and going about her nightly routine with a soft smile on her face that she didn’t seem to be able to get rid of, and as she thought of meeting Jamison in the workshop tomorrow, suddenly tomorrow couldn’t seem to arrive fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so they've gone official, and jamie is one very happy rat
> 
> also! I know it's been ages since the last update but between the last chapter and this one, uni started again so I've been super busy and just... didn't even think about updating. also this chapter turned out to be quite long and I spent a lot of time trying to make sure the date scenes were perfect... and also angela's science took quite a bit of thinking to get right so that's why I took much longer to update this time around~ 
> 
> the beach scene was really hard to get right, like, how much is Too Much
> 
> poor jamie tho, how is he ever gonna top this date?


	67. Thus Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat discovers way more people know than he would have thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains a NSFW scene!

The morning was bright, the air was sweet, and last night he’d gone on a date with Satya Vaswani.

Junkrat couldn’t have contained his grin if he tried, and he’d spent the morning basking in his room, lounging luxuriously on his bed as he went over and over making out with her on the beach. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d managed that, and so suavely, too. He’d been positive he’d put his foot in his mouth somehow but he didn’t think he had and for that reason, he was walking on air. Remembering how Satya had felt in his arms didn’t hurt much, either.

God, she was the sexiest thing in the world, so warm and vibrant and soft against him, with intriguing heat between her legs (he was still a little disappointed he hadn’t managed to get his fingers beneath her underwear, but berated himself in the next moment for expecting it, when it was only their first date). Christ, he’d nearly swallowed his tongue when he’d first seen her at the pier, in clothes he’d never seen her wear before but was _very_ interested in seeing her wear again; that silky crop top that revealed her stomach and dipped off her shoulders to hint at her cleavage was now his favourite style of shirt in the world, but he was more interested in helping her take it off.

For a moment there it had almost seemed as though he _would_ get to take it off, though when he was thinking with a brain no longer muddled with lust, he knew that was his dick talking; Satya would never do such a thing in public. Well, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t.

He’d slept amazingly well last night, much to his surprise; Junkrat had expected to be plagued by images of Satya all night but after jerking off and finally ridding himself of the blue balls she’d given him, he’d fallen asleep quickly, and actually stayed asleep all night, lost in fantasies of Satya, deliciously sensual and temptingly naked, wrapped in the blankets of his bed and guiding him to completion. Junkrat had woken to find pearly white stickiness smeared all over him and his sheets, which had soured his mood a little, but having cleaned himself up and bundled his now too sticky to ignore sheets to the floor, he’d then sprawled himself over his bare mattress to think about his dreams with a goofy grin on his face. Then, he’d started wondering if Satya ever thought of him at night, and had become lost in a fantasy of her touching herself, which very quickly turned into a delightful imagining in which Satya spread her legs for him, her heavily-lidded golden gaze on his as her fingers moved over slick lips –

That particular fantasy cost him his last pair of reasonably clean shorts, and it was with an irritable grumble that Junkrat realised he would need to do a load of laundry. Dirt didn’t bother him, but even he had some reservations about going out in public with his shorts covered in spunk. He proceeded to put it off for an hour, but gradually the realisation that he couldn’t exactly do that _and_ expect to go to the workshop and see Satya and his bombs today, and it was with a sour expression that he hunted through his dirty clothes for his cleanest (and non-jizz covered) shorts, which dropped ash and soot as he walked, gathered his bedding and clothes together, and forgetting all about the automatic laundry chute in his wall, headed down to the laundry room himself.

The base had automatic laundry facilities, apparently, which would wash clothes and have them delivered by drones if you put them down the laundry chute, but Junkrat was forgetful on a good day and it wouldn’t be until several hours later that he would remember that he could have saved himself a lot of time and effort if he’d just used the chute, and so it was a miserable rat who opened the door to the laundry with his arms full, resigning himself to death amongst the bedsheets.

He found the room occupied; as well as the automatic chutes, the laundry room was also open access to everyone who had reason to wash their own clothes, and Hana and Lúcio were both in there. Hana was clearly finishing a load, for she was folding something sheer and small which she all but threw into her basket when Junkrat slouched through the door. Lúcio was spectating, sitting perched on top of a washing machine, and turned to greet him.

“Hey, Rat.” He called with a wave. “Laundry day?”

Junkrat scowled irritably at his pile. “Yeah.”

“Hi Rat!” Hana enthused, popping up from behind her basket.

“G’day! Whatcha doin’?”

“The same as you, I think.” Hana’s expression turned enthusiastic. “So! Don’t hide it! How was last night!?”

Junkrat stared at her for a moment, lost for words as red crawled into his cheeks. “Uh… Fine, I guess.”

Hana wrinkled her nose. “That’s what Satya said. You guys didn’t do something dumb, did you?”

Junkrat’s eyes widened, his heart sinking. “She _said_ that?”

“Hana’s not telling it right.” Lúcio said quickly, slipping down off the washing machine he sat on. “You know Satya’s not the type of person to get all girly and squealy.”

Hana raised a brow. _“Girly?”_

Lúcio grinned. “You know what I mean. She isn’t gonna yell about it.”

“I suppose not.” Hana mused, while Junkrat attempted to fish his heart out of his boot. “C’mon, Rat, be honest. How was it? You guys had a good time at least, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He mumbled, a small grin appearing without permission. “It was – bloody great, actually.”

“Yes!” Hana jumped and clapped her hands. “Oh my god, I was gonna be so angry with you if you messed it up, Rat!”

“You an’ me both.” He told her, trying to control his grin.

Her expression turned sly. “So you’re going out again…?”

“Dunno.” He said truthfully, shoving his washing into the machine with a little more force than necessary. He then frowned at the machine; Hog was generally the one who pushed him to do his washing, and now he came to think about it, he didn’t exactly know how to work the bloody thing. He stood frowning at the dials, and then realised he was gonna need some sort of… soap. “Hey, where’s the fuckin’… the soap shit?”

Hana giggled and Lúcio jerked his thumb towards a cabinet. “Detergent’s in there.” He informed him. “If you’re looking for _actual_ soap though, I’ve got nothing.”

Junkrat went over to the promising looking cupboard, which did in fact hold laundry detergent. Hana and Lúcio were eyeing him with barely stifled laughter as they watched his puzzled expression, trying to work out where exactly he was supposed to put the fucking soap.

“Don’t you do your laundry, Rat?” Hana asked, coming over to stand beside him, and Junkrat looked at her.

“Uh, not really, no. I mean, Hog’s usually here.” He scratched at his jaw. “Guess I uh, don’t pay as much attention as I thought.”

“Where is he?” Lúcio appeared on his other side, and Junkrat frowned at them both.

“Dunno.” He mumbled sullenly, frowning unhappily at the dials.

“Here, all you need is a synthetic cycle.” Hana chirped, taking the box from his hands. “I don’t think those shorts are gonna be cotton!” She continued with a laugh, and Junkrat chuckled.

“Haven’t got a clue what they are, t’be honest.”

Hana filled the machine with detergent for him and Junkrat stared at her hands as she worked, trying to memorise what she was doing so that the next time he found himself needing to operate a washing machine, he wouldn’t be quite so fucked. It seemed simple enough – clothes in, door shut, detergent in, dial turned, button pushed. He couldn’t quite believe he’d never done this himself, but the reality was, Junkrat would have been more interested in pulling the guts out of the machine to make something else, rather than learning how to actually operate it.

His forte was with mechanical bits and wires and knobs and screws, not electronics and touch screen displays – there was a reason he remained a little in awe of the laptop he’d been issued when he joined Overwatch, and it wasn’t because Athena’s voice was in there too.

He ended up hanging out in the laundry room for the next two hours, excitedly telling Lúcio and Hana about his latest batch of explosives, and getting flustered when they peppered him with questions about his date with Satya. When they’d made him flush red with embarrassment and teased him thoroughly for it, he was finally able to snatch his clean laundry from the drier Lúcio had showed him how to use and flee their knowing glances. After he’d dumped his laundry on his bed, he’d taken his notebook and a tall glass of milo and settled himself into a pleasant nook in the sun outside, in the perfect vantage spot; he had an excellent view of everyone and anyone who passed and (or so he thought) no one could see him.

There, he put his milo at his side and hunched into a ball, his tongue sticking out of his mouth and his brows furrowed as he scribbled out plans for a new pressure-sensitive mine. This mine was going to be something he could drop mid-battle, but rather than go off when he hit the detonator, they would explode from the changed air pressure when people (bad guys) were within the designated vicinity. It was a tricky design and he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to pull it off, but he’d had a very enthusiastic talk with Brigitte the other day and she’d shown him some designs of Torbjörn’s that he was hoping to adapt. He was just working on how the air-pressure detector would slot into his more traditional mine cases when a shadow fell over him and he looked up, startled.

Ana grinned at him, a brow cocked inquiringly. “So, how did it go?” She asked, and Junkrat furrowed his brow in confusion and flipped his notebook shut.

“What?” He asked blankly.

“Ah, c’mon.” Ana grinned and settled down on the grass beside him, making Junkrat draw his legs up defensively. “Your date? How was it?”

Junkrat stared at her for a few long moments. “Dunno whatcha talkin’ ‘bout.” He muttered at last, and Ana laughed.

“Don’t play coy with me, young man.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Satya told me.”

Junkrat jerked, eyes wide. “She _what?”_

Ana chuckled. “Well, not in so many words. I happened to notice you two were off base last night and when I ran into Satya this morning, I innocently asked where she’d gone and she turned red as a cherry.” She arched a brow expectantly. “So, how did it go?”

“Uh… okay.” Junkrat took a deep breath and drummed his pencil against the paper. “Pretty good, I think.”

“Good.” Ana said, sounding immensely satisfied. “Are you going out again?”

“Er… hope so.”

“Excellent.” Ana patted his shoulder lightly. “Have you seen her today?”

“No.” Junkrat cautiously met her gaze. “I, uh… no.” He squinted at her. “Y’seem weirdly invested in this, nan.”

She cackled. “Please. Only because it’s taken you two this long to finally get together. Do you realise how long I’ve been watching you?”

Junkrat stared, disconcerted, fingers momentarily frozen from shock. “Y’have?” He narrowed his eyes. “When? Not like we’ve been doin’ anythin’ in front of anyone-”

“That’s what _you_ think.” Ana smiled delightedly. “You think I’m blind, mm? I may only have one eye but I see all, let me tell you. She stares at you when you aren’t looking, you know.”

Junkrat couldn’t help his silly grin. _“Really?_ She does? That’s – wow-”

“You stare at her, too, so don’t get too cocky.”

He instantly deflated. “Look, Ana, I-”

“Now, you listen to me. She’s a wonderful girl and despite first appearances, I think you two will do well together. I don’t want you to mess things up, okay?”

He laughed nervously, trying to ignore the intense. “Uh, me neither. Y’know, y’not as scary as y’look, nan.”

Ana raised a sceptical brow. “Oh, really?”

Junkrat wisely decided to keep quiet, and Ana grinned.

“Smart boy. Okay, I’ll let you finish your work. Keep up the good work, and don’t mess things up with Satya. Oh, and Junkrat? Go and see her. I’m sure she’s wondering where you are.”

“I’ll try.” Junkrat mumbled, still not really sure how to respond to people knowing about his private life, and watched as Ana moved off. Once she was back inside, he tipped his head against the wall and thought for a moment. Satya was wondering where he was? Part of him glowed inside, and the rest of him wondered how the hell Ana knew that. How much had Satya told her? He climbed to his feet and carefully flipped through his notebook until he’d found the page he’d been working on, filled with scribbles, notes, schematics – and Satya. He lightly traced the messy sketch of the way her hair fell across her face when she was thinking, then closed the notebook and shoved it into the pocket of his shorts and set off, hurrying to the workshop.

He figured he’d check there first – if she wasn’t there, well, he supposed he’d text her and ask if she maybe wanted to meet up. Junkrat reached the workshop and took a moment to straighten his hair, hitch up his shorts and tighten his belt before he opened the door and stepped inside, feeling strangely nervous. His belly clenched with excitement when he saw Satya, standing by her desk weaving the wireframe of a prosthetic arm from light, and then irritation sparked within him when he took in Torbjörn and Brigitte beside her, examining her creation. There was a soft meow from Brigitte’s workspace and Mullock popped his head up over the top of the basket she’d bought for him.

“It’ll work, but will the hard light work?” Brigitte was asking. “It’s one thing to make a functioning prosthesis, but another to – oh, hey, Junkrat!”

“G’day.” Junkrat used her greeting as an excuse to lope towards them, hands in his pockets, as Mullock climbed out of his basket and came hurrying across the floor to wind himself around Junkrat’s ankle. He met Satya’s gaze and gave her a smile before he remembered Ana’s words and he quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t been too obvious. “How’s the arm comin’ along?”

“Fairly well.” That was Satya, and she offered him a soft smile as she let the construct fade into a shimmer of blue. “We just have some flaws to work through.”

“Yeah?” That caught his attention. “What sorta flaws?”

“Well, there’s only so much we can do without the original plans.” Satya tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Torbjörn’s done a wonderful job of radiographing my arm and coming up with blueprints, but we don’t know the reasoning behind every element.”

“She’s right.” Torbjörn chimed in. “Knowing _why_ a component is there is half the battle won. If we could get into Vishkar’s systems and get our hands on the schematics for the hard light components, it’d make our job much easier.”

“Well, couldn’t we do that somehow?” Asked Brigitte, brow furrowed. “Surely Winston and Athena could come up with something.”

“Well, we _could_.” Satya said slowly, and Junkrat watched her face, liking how she tended to sink her teeth into her lower lip when she was thinking. “But I broke into Vishkar’s database once before, and I’d be very much surprised if they haven’t massively upgraded their security since then. They’ll want to keep me out. Besides, hard light isn’t any ordinary data – it’s our most closely guarded secret. It wouldn’t be easy to find.”

“And if we’re caught trying to get in-” Torbjörn added. “-they’d instantly try to have Satya arrested.”

“All right!” Brigitte grinned good-naturedly. “It was just a suggestion.”

“It’s a good suggestion, just impractical.” Satya’s teeth worried at her lip. “Still, I think we’re making decent progress.”

“Well, that’s somethin’.” Junkrat offered. “S’long as it works, ay?”

“Well, yes.” Satya responded, her gaze far away and her mind clearly focused inwards. “But I’d rather have optimised capabilities rather than something that simply ‘works’.”

“And we’ll get there.” Torbjörn soothed. “It’ll just take time, that’s all. You’re nearly done with the replica arm and then I’ll be able to take it apart and see how it ticks. It won’t be long after that.”

“Right!” Brigitte grinned. “Smooth sailing, once papa gets his hands on it.”

Junkrat left the three to their contemplation of blueprints and hard light shortly afterwards, and settled himself into his chair to work on his air pressure mine. He resented Torbjörn and Brigitte’s presence – he wanted to talk to Satya, damn them – but he supposed he could be patient; Satya’s new arm was incredibly important, after all.

It took hours, but finally Torbjörn and Brigitte left for dinner, while Satya told them she was going to tidy her desk before she went, and Junkrat hunched into a ball and hoped no one would ask him to go with them. Brigitte said goodbye but he was relieved when they didn’t invite him along with them, and finally he was alone with Satya.

Junkrat waited until the door had shut behind the two engineers and then swivelled his chair around, taking in the sight of Satya as she shuffled loose blueprint paper into a neat stack before she turned slightly, glancing at him over her shoulder.

Unable to help himself, Junkrat got to his feet and headed over to her desk, and he couldn’t help his grin when he saw her smile at him.

“Hey.”

“Hello.” Satya turned to face him properly as she pushed her thick sheaf of hair over her shoulder. “Are you getting ready for dinner?”

“Yeah, just finishing up. ‘Spose I can be early for once.” Satya smiled and he felt absurdly bashful. “So, uh… y’wanna come with?” Mullock jumped up on Satya’s bench and meowed insistently at them, and he snickered. “Looks like it’s dinner for three.”

Satya’s smile turned amused as she scratched behind Mullock’s one ear. “I’d be honoured.”

“Great!” Junkrat paused, remembering last night – she’d told him she wanted him to touch her, and he wanted to so badly it hurt, but was it a one-time thing? He held his breath as he reached out, skimming his fingers through her hair. Satya watched him for a long moment, and there was something about her that seemed expectant. The moment lengthened and he could tell he was supposed to do something but couldn’t figure out what and ended up freezing in place as his brain malfunctioned, and Satya’s smile widened.

“Come along.” She said softly, taking his hand in hers. Junkrat linked his fingers through her own and smiled giddily as she led him towards the door. “I haven’t seen you all day. I’d wondered where you were.”

“Oh, I was workin’ on m’plans.” Junkrat grinned down at her. “Found a real good spot in the sun, real comfy.”

Satya hummed her approval. “What sort of plans?”

“New type of bomb. Hey, y’wanna see?”

“I’d love to.”

Her words sent a fluttery feeling of pure joy rioting through his stomach, and Junkrat pulled his notebook from his pocket to hurriedly flip through the pages and offer it to her, beaming. Satya arched a brow and then looked up at him, her expression carefully neutral.

“And this is new, is it?” She inquired, and he nodded excitedly.

“Yeah, spent all mornin’ on it. Lemme show ya-” Junkrat leaned in so he could see the schematics for his mine and then, too late, noticed the drawing of Satya decorating the corner of the page. “Ah, fuck.”

Satya hid her laugh behind her hand. “Still drawing me, hmm? I thought we had an agreement.”

Junkrat didn’t quite know where to look. “Fuck. Satya, look, I-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Satya touched his arm gently. “I’m not angry.”

He gave her a relieved grin. “Yeah? Thought y’might be pissed, after last time-” He cut himself off and laughed nervously. “Uh. Yeah.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “It’s quite flattering, actually.”

He perked up at that. “Yeah? That’s good. Was uh, wondering if you’d-” He froze as Satya turned the page and was confronted with another sketch of her. This time, it was as bad as it could possibly get, because this Satya was naked, each bare curve outlined in bold pencil strokes and Junkrat panicked, snatching the notebook out of her grasp and clutching it to his chest, eyes wide with horror.

“Uh, look, that’s not – I mean, I didn’t mean, shit, I uh, _fuck_ -”

“Jamie.”

Junkrat stuttered to a stop when she said his name, and gaze at her fearfully. She didn’t _seem_ angry, more amused, which he hoped was a good sign. Satya held out her hand and arched her brow in an expectant manner.

“Show me, please.”

It was with a great deal of trepidation that Junkrat slowly extended the notebook, and cringed when she opened it to the page and studied the nude sketch of her with a surprisingly intense look, before she lifted a finger and traced it over the lines of the image.

“You’re very good, but I think I’ve said that before.” Her lips curved into a smile. “I don’t actually look like this, you know.”

“Y’don’t?” Junkrat immediately clapped his hand over his mouth, trying to shut his arse up even as his mind roared into overdrive, trying to picture what she did look like beneath her clothes.

“I don’t.” Amusement was rich in her tone, and when Satya handed the notebook back to him and leaned in, her fingers tangling in his singlet to tug him down to her level so she could whisper in his ear, he damn near combusted on the spot. “Perhaps I’ll have to show you some time.”

“Holy _fuck_.” Junkrat stared down at her as she released him, feeling heat rise in his face and blood surge to his dick. “Y’serious?”

“I don’t see why not.” Satya smiled at him. “Come on, Jamison. We’re going to be late for dinner.”

With that, she turned and sashayed towards the door, with such a deliberate swing to her hips he couldn’t have kept his gaze off her arse if he’d tried. Junkrat stood rooted to the spot for a few long moments, mouth hanging open with shock, and then he shook himself like a cat and scurried after her, entirely unable to help the grin plastered across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok SO this took a long ass time to update! I've been super busy with uni lately and all my writing has been on the backburner, but I've had a bit of a lull and managed to do some writing (finally)
> 
> also I got really into this massive huge long chapter I was writing and I finally finished it and got ready to post and then realised I'd forgotten about this chapter which I could have posted ages ago adskfgfjlhfs so uh, turns out the really long chapter will be in the next update instead of this one and?? cant believe I spent a whole ass month writing a chapter only to find out it wasn't even the right chapter smh


	68. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satya has quite a day

 “Perhaps if we-”

Satya made a concerted effort to listen to what Winston was saying, but she was invested in the construct shimmering between her fingertips and lost track of his words as she brought a gleaming hard light component into the world.

“There.” She said with a relieved sigh, handing the piece over to Torbjörn. “I’m sure the measurements are right this time.”

“Hope so.” Grunted Torbjörn, callipers in hand. The piece she’d just crafted was to be part of the prototype arm, and it was so delicately shaped and fiddly it’d been giving them grief all morning. Satya glanced over at the pile of previous attempts, all imperfect in some way – the inner mechanisms of her prosthetic, the part that created hard light itself, was absurdly difficult to perfect and it was driving her mad.

“There.” Torbjörn said in tones of utter satisfaction. “You’ve done it! Balanced out the thickness in the upper hook slide and I think it’s perfect.”

Satya beamed in relief. “Thank the Gods.” She said, mopping beads of sweat from her brow where they had sprung from her effort. “Is it ready for the prototype?”

“I think so.” Torbjörn carefully passed the delicate thing to Winston, who examined it carefully, then nodded.

“I agree, it looks perfect. Brigitte?”

Brigitte was the next person to take the little component; she held it delicately with some tweezers and pushed her desk-mounted magnifying glass between herself and the hard light generator and set about carefully inserting it into place. Satya held her breath as she watched, muscles tense from the agonising suspense of it. They’d already broken a few delicate parts trying to install them, and each piece was subsequently being treated as though it were no sturdier than a blade of grass. There was the tiniest _snick_ as Brigitte carefully slotted the part into place, then took a fine-tipped tool and tapped it gently to ensure it was fully in. With a deep breath, Brigitte carefully removed her tools from the opening of the mechanism and, with a significant look, closed the hatch. With this part, the hard light component was complete, though currently removed from the actual prosthesis they were building, and hooked up to an energy source to mimic the nerve function of a human body.

“Phew! That was so stressful.” Brigitte wiped a hand across her eyes and grinned. “We did it!”

“Well done, Brigitte. Time to test it.” Winston said, beaming.

Satya was needed for this, and so was Angela. The doctor appeared a few minutes after Torbjörn called her and then Satya was seated in a chair and subjected to many different electrodes, which Angela stuck to her forehead and to her arm and upper torso. Thus wired up, Satya was connected to the hard light mechanism, and then the whole room held its breath when she lifted her hands. Torbjörn had figured out how to connect a certain wire to her prosthetic so that when she performed her usual routine of crafting a construct, the hard light mechanism in her arm didn’t activate – the limb would think the mechanism they had just created was the conduit for its hard light.

With the mechanism suspended before her, Satya closed her eyes and concentrated, attempting to summon light between her fingers light she normally did. Nothing happened.

She opened her eyes and frowned. “It… isn’t working.”

Winston pinched the bridge of his nose while Brigitte sighed disappointedly, and Torbjörn stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“You’re sure?” He asked. “It’s a different set up to your usual way. Maybe you just need to practice.”

“Maybe.” Satya allowed. “Okay, let me try again…”

It didn’t work on her next try, or the try after that. On her twelfth go, however, blue light sparked between her fingers.

“There!” Brigitte all but yelled. “Did you see that?”

Satya allowed herself a smile as Winston dove for the monitors and began studying her brain activity and the electrical impulses going to her arm and to the hard light mechanism, and Torbjörn leaned in to make sure the mechanism wasn’t cracking from the stress. With the go ahead to try again, Satya sank her teeth into her lower lip and concentrated so hard beads of sweat popped out on her brow. It was very different to operating with her arm – the hard light mechanism was stationary, rather than embedded in her palm, and it was the inability to shape it using the movement of that palm that had stymied her previous efforts, but now that she understood why, and focused on manipulating that stationary light, it came easier, and all of a sudden the construct was there and Satya carefully moved her fingers, tweaking the simple wireframe of a cube.

She practiced, enlarging then shrinking the wireframe, then twisting it out of shape and smoothing it back into perfection. Gritting her teeth from the effort of the unfamiliar, she brought solidity to it, smooth strokes of her hands giving substance to the cube and turning it from a transparent wireframe to a relatively solid box. With a sigh of utter satisfaction she drew the white metal cube from the air and revelled in the sturdy feel of a solid object in her hands, then looked up at the three faces eagerly watching her progress.

“You did it!” Brigitte clapped her hands. “I can’t believe it!”

“I can’t either.” Satya turned the cube over in her hands, marvelling at it. “Just think – before today Vishkar were the only people in the world with this technology.”

Winston looked sober. “Then things just got a lot more dangerous around here. If they find out before we get the arm working-”

“They won’t.” Torbjörn was scribbling notes furiously. “How can they? If they’ve managed to bug the base I’ll eat my hat.”

Brigitte giggled. “You’re not wearing a hat, Papa.”

Torbjörn chuckled. “That’s true. Okay, Satya, see if you can repeat what you just did. We’ll have to do a few repeats before we can consider this a success.”

“Remember that it’ll be much easier for me when this is a part of my new arm.” Satya reminded him, though she was already lifting her hands to summon a new wireframe. “I’m quite sure the only reason I’m having difficulty with it is because it’s sitting on a bench.”

“True.” Winston adjusted his glasses. “But we want to change the design, too. It’ll take lots of work if we’re having difficulty with a carbon copy of Vishkar’s design.”

“Mm, we’ll get there.” Mumbled Torbjörn absently, who was adjusting something in his blueprints, while Angela was noting the electrical pulses in Satya’s brain.

“Angela, what do you think?” Winston asked. “Is this surgery something you can do?”

“No.” Angela look apologetic. “It’d certainly be convenient, but I just don’t have the equipment I need in Gibraltar. Now, if we were at the Swiss base…” She paused. “Well. I had a very good medical wing there.” She coughed slightly and went on. “It’ll have to be Switzerland, Winston. I’ll need Ingrid.”

“Hm, well, we’ll sort that out when we get the prototypes perfect.” Winston looked across to Torbjörn and began to say something, when Satya’s phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket and when she registered the caller I.D, the blood curdled in her veins.

“Gods, it’s Sanjay.” She cast a horrified look at the very obvious hard light parts strewn across the workbench and shot to her feet. “I’ll have to take this outside.”

“Go, don’t let him see this!” Torbjörn said urgently, as Angela dove forward and pulled the electrodes off Satya’s face and she sprinted for the door. Outside, she hit the answer button and fought to control her expression – Sanjay was very inconveniently video-calling her.

“Sanjay.” She greeted him calmly, which she was proud of as she held the phone in front of her as she walked. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Satya.” He smiled at her. “I come with good news, but first, tell me what you’ve been up to.” His little image peered around, taking in the corridor she was walking down. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No, not at all. I was just on my way back from the workshop.”

“Oh? What were you working on?”

Satya shrugged one shoulder in a careless fashion. “I was working on my turrets. I like to see if I can’t improve them.”

“Of course, of course.” Sanjay arched a brow. “Did you have any breakthroughs?”

“I don’t think so.” Satya tried to make her tone cool and professional, but not too frosty that he would notice any evident dislike. “I was merely fine-tuning the construction process. You said you had news?” She prompted, and he smiled, looking very pleased.

“Ah, yes. I’m glad to say, your design for the Oasis project has been brought forward into the final round. You’re up against two other potential candidates, but I’m confident you’ll get it. We’ve designed for Quarashi before-” he said, naming a high profile member of the Oasis ministry, Mahmoud Quarashi, who handled the city’s infrastructure and approved all pending building applications. “-and he has told me he’s been very pleased with the quality of your work.”

Satya smiled at the praise. “I’m very glad. Who else am I up against?”

“Uh…” Sanjay frowned as he flicked through his tablet. “Aapti Banerjee, you know her, from Vihann’s department. You’re also up against a new graduate.”

Satya frowned. “What? Recently graduated? How recent?”

“She finished last year, and has been moving up the ranks swiftly.” Sanjay looked put out to be admitting it. “With you not here to defend your title, there’s whisperings she’ll take the top spot within a year or two.”

Satya took a moment to respond, anger curdling in her stomach. She possessed a fierce competitive streak when it came to her designs, and for the last few years she’d been secure in her position as Vishkar’s best architech. To hear that she was in danger of being usurped by a recent graduate left a sour taste in her mouth.

“She must be good.” She said rather flatly.

“She is.” Sanjay screwed up his mouth. “Her name is Oshadhi Deshmukh, and by all accounts she’s quite gifted. She’s Mirajkar’s.”

Well, that accounted for Sanjay’s bitterness. Mirajkar was another supervisor, like Sanjay, whose role was to take charge of architechs and handle the business side of things and act as a go-between for them with the corporate side of Vishkar. Mirajkar and Sanjay loathed one another, for Mirajkar had wanted to sign Satya to her department, but Sanjay had got there first, and they’d been at war ever since. The fact that Mirajkar had a new architech that could possibly topple Satya from her seat at the top would be clawing at his insides, but not as much as it was killing Satya to imagine. She refused to lose her spot just before she left Vishkar – it would look as though she was a sore loser. She fully intended to go out at the top of her game.

“What are her chances?” Satya asked anxiously. “I refuse to lose my place to a _new graduate.”_ She said it like they were dirty words, and Sanjay scowled.

“They’re good, which is a shame. Satya, I have another contract here for you if you’re willing to take it on. You can’t pull the Oasis design to fine tune it at this stage, so it’ll be worth your while to get another excellent contract signed.”

“Who is it for? What country?”

“It’s in Kolkata, actually, and it’s for us. Head office wants a new outsourcing facility based there. I think you’ll do excellently; you know what head office likes.”

“I’ll start immediately.” Satya said, full of determination and forgetting she was supposed to be leaving Vishkar. “Time constraints?”

“You have three months, but I’m sure delivering your design before then will count towards your chances of being selected. I’ll email the specifications to you now.” Sanjay smiled at her. “I’m counting on you, Satya. Do well at this and head office won’t forget it.”

“I will, don’t worry. If I can changed the subject briefly, do you know when the Oasis decision will be finalised?”

“Next week.” Sanjay nodded briefly. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear back.”

“Thank you.” Her phone dinged; the specifications for the Kolkata contract had arrived. “I should begin as soon as possible, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Sanjay smiled at her. “I look forward to seeing another excellent design from you, Satya.”

“And I look forward to delivering it.” Satya smiled and they said their goodbyes, and the moment the call disconnected she was striding through the hall, all memory of her new prosthetic forgotten as her mind hummed with ideas. She opened the specifications for the contract and by the time she reached the grassed space outside the base she already had an idea or two; she began by replicating the map of the area to be developed, and with a gesture the image exploded into a three dimensional hologram of the site. From there, Satya strode about and critically examined it from every angle, noting the surrounding buildings and looking up the general atmosphere of the neighbourhood – going against the feel of a place was a sure way to have your designs dropped from consideration. Satya then wove a large drawing tablet and a pen from thin air and sat down in a hard light seat, warm in the sunshine as she began to sketch some preliminary designs. She refused to be beaten at her own game – she was the best architech to pass through the halls of Vishkar’s academy in a long time, and she _refused_ to be upstaged.

 “Satya?”

She looked up to see Hanzo moving toward her, puzzlement written on his features.

“Good morning.” Satya continued sketching furiously. “What brings you out here?”

“What are you doing out here? I thought you were working on your arm.”

That reminded her, and Satya paused. “Ah… Torbjörn and Winston are handling things.”

“Is this going to be a building? Is this a _contract?”_

“It is.” Satya pursed her lips. “I know, I’m supposed to be leaving Vishkar. I just…”

Hanzo cocked a brow. “Just what?”

Satya sighed and lowered her voice. “There’s a new graduate.” She confided. “Oshadhi Deshmukh. Sanjay tells me she’s good, good enough to possibly take my place. He’s given me a contract so that I can keep my place. I’ve spent a long time cultivating my position; I won’t let some upstart take it from me.”

Hanzo regarded her for a long, slow moment. “And you’re worried about this _now?_ When you’re just about to leave?”

“Of course.” Satya frowned at him, irritated at his lack of understanding. “Do you think I’ll settle for being anything less than the best when I do leave? I’ve been Vishkar’s best architech for years, and I’m not about to stop now.”

“I see.” Hanzo sat down beside her and lapsed into a thoughtful silence. “Is she good?” He asked finally. “Is it common for new graduates to advance so quickly?”

Satya was quiet for a moment. “Well – no. Not really.” She pursed her lips. “Sanjay says-”

“Sanjay knows you have your doubts about Vishkar. I think he’s trying to manipulate you.”

Satya bit her lip. “Manipulate me how?” She asked, curious to see his reasoning. “Walk me through your thinking.”

“Well, he’s been your supervisor for years, yes? He knows how much you value your position. I’d wager he’s banking on your competitiveness to make you want to stay at the top of your game, which would naturally make you less inclined to leave Vishkar, or expose them, or whatever it is Sanjay thinks you mean to do.”

She was silent for a moment. “That would be – insidious, if it were true.” She replied softly, and Hanzo nodded.

“It would, but you _know_ he’s lied to you before. It’s entirely possible he’s doing so now.”

Satya was quiet as she absorbed Hanzo’s words. “Do you really think so?” She asked quietly, and he nodded again.

“I do. Satya, listen to me. I know what it’s like to control people. Shimada clan, remember? Fostering competitiveness is so easy to do and it works very well, if you also encourage isolation. You’re not in contact with anyone from Vishkar other than Sanjay, yes?”

Satya stared at him. “No. He has been my only liaison while I’ve been away.”

“Mm. So, he’s told you all these things to play on your ambitions, and he knows he’s where you get your information from. He’s safe, you’re focused on your work, and there’s no chance of you getting distracted by whatever disreputable things Vishkar is doing in the background because you’re too busy fighting to keep your position.”

Hanzo ended this extraordinary speech with a significant look and Satya stared, mouth ajar in shock.

“Gods, how did this happen to my life?” She muttered furiously. “If you’re right, Sanjay is the _slimiest_ , contemptable…”

“He is, isn’t he?” Hanzo agreed. “And speaking of things happening in your life…” He abruptly trailed off, looking like he regretted opening his mouth.

“Yes?” Satya inquired with an arch of her brow.

“Ah.” Hanzo fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “This isn’t my business, but Satya, I consider myself your friend.” He paused, clearly watching her reaction, and she nodded in encouragement.

“Of course.”

“Yes, well, I like to think that we, as friends, would watch out for each other, and we, as friends, might confide in one another.”

Satya furrowed her brows, her head tilting in confusion. “Hanzo, are you confiding in me, or do you want me to confide in you…?”

“The latter.” Hanzo pursed his lips. “Satya, you know he is a _criminal_ , don’t you?”

Satya narrowed her eyes. She had no idea how he’d found out, but it didn’t take a genius to know who he was referring to. “So are you. Are you saying we shouldn’t be friends?”

Hanzo’s expression turned a little icy. “I know what I am, and that is something of a very different class to what _he_ is. He’s a _Junker_ , Satya. He certainly doesn’t deserve a woman like you.”

Satya’s eyes narrowed further. “Hanzo-”

He cut her off. “Listen, I don’t pretend to know all the details. Perhaps you’re simply scratching an itch, and I am not going to judge you. I just want you to be careful. That kind of man… he’s a liability.”

“You don’t know what kind of man he is.” Satya snapped. “You’ve never said anything more than two words to him.”

Hanzo regarded her narrowly. “You’re very defensive. Is this a _relationship?”_

Satya angrily pushed her hair out of her face. “It’s none of your business.” She took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself. “I was wondering how you knew.”

“When you returned from Hollywood.” Hanzo said, and her stomach sank down to her toes. _The hallway._ “I was looking for you. I didn’t get to see you in the hangar before Winston called you into the briefing. I wasn’t expecting to see… that.”

Satya snorted. “If it makes you feel any better, you weren’t supposed to.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t do such things in public hallways.” Hanzo studied her for a moment. “I don’t see how you could.” He said at last. “You’re so… you, and he is… very different.”

“He is.” Satya allowed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It doesn’t mean that I would despise him for it.” She pursed her lips for a moment, thinking. “Junkrat and I… we’re often both in the workshop. He talks a lot; you know that. Over time… well, he’s not what first impressions imply. Believe it or not, but he is sweet and affectionate and caring and…” She trailed off at the look on Hanzo’s face.

“You _like_ him.” He stated, looking shocked, and Satya nodded.

“You’re not very flattering, but yes. I do.” She lifted her chin as he arched a brow.

“I’m surprised you’d admit it.”

“Why?” Satya challenged. “I’m not _ashamed_ of him. Granted, it’s all very new and there is no guarantee that this will be anything permanent, but… I’ve nothing to hide.”

“Don’t you?” Hanzo looked sceptical. “I would.”

Satya bristled. “Your opinion isn’t the only one that matters.” She snapped. “Maybe you dislike him but you don’t speak for everyone and you _certainly_ don’t speak for me.”

Hanzo was quiet for a moment. “I don’t mean to insult you, Satya.” He said finally. “I can see that I have, I just – I was surprised.” He admitted. “I would never have picked it.”

Satya muffled a sour laugh behind her fingertips. “I wouldn’t have either, at one stage.”

Hanzo shook his head. “I’d have thought you’d have taken someone more… sophisticated.”

“Maybe I’m tired of sophistication.” Satya glanced at him. “Do you realise that since I’ve been here, I have not worn anything other than my Vishkar clothes? I’m constantly on my guard because I’m here representing my company and it just… I enjoy what I do but business can get tedious and Junkrat is the opposite. He’s open and artless and he’s… refreshing.” She said simply. “I enjoy that.”

Hanzo nodded. “I can accept that. But he’s so…” He made a face. “He plays the fool and I wouldn’t have expected _you_ to mesh with that sort of personality.”

“I didn’t when I met him.” Satya admitted. “I thought he was horrible; messy and loud and irritating. And filthy! Gods, he gets so filthy. I don’t know how he does it. But people change, you know, and perceptions change, too. Mine certainly did. I got to know him better, and Junkrat is… well, the man he is in private is not necessarily the one he is in public.”

Hanzo’s brows shot up. “It’s an _act?”_

“Well… not quite. He _is_ like that, it’s just that, he’s more than that, too.”

Hanzo looked at her for a long moment. “So… are you dating?”

“More or less.” Satya lifted her chin. “You needn’t look so shocked.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Hanzo said, rather coldly. “He’s a fool. You can do much better than him, Satya.”

“This isn’t any of your business, Hanzo-” Satya snapped, anger sparking within her.

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t allow him to slobber all over you in the hallways.” Hanzo’s tone was icy, and Satya whipped around to glare at him, outrage curling through her.

 _“I beg your_ _pardon_ -”

“Oh, forgive me.” Hanzo said sarcastically. “I didn’t know you condoned that sort of behaviour. Why are you defending _him?_ He’s a lunatic. Take my advice, and stay away from him.”

Satya took a moment, anger stealing her voice as she glared at him. “He might be… questionable, in some respects-” She began, and Hanzo snorted.

“ _Some_ respects?”

Satya ignored the jibe and carried on. “What I choose to do in my private life is none of your concern, Hanzo.” She said coldly, striving to control her voice. “As I said, he might be… a little controversial, but-”

“He’s a murderer, an arsonist, a complete _psychopath!”_

“And Yakuza aren’t!?” Satya snapped.

Hanzo regarded her with narrowed eyes. “I thought you would have more _sense_ , Satya.”

“It’s not a question of sense.” She told him. “It’s what I _choose_ to do.”

“He’s a madman. Don’t you know what he’s done?” Hanzo asked nastily. “Do yourself a favour, look up his criminal record.”

“I know what he’s done.” Satya said angrily. “Do you honestly think I condone what he’s done in the past? I don’t, not at all, and he knows it. It’s a question of circumstance, Hanzo. He grew up in a _hellhole_. You know what the Outback is like?”

Hanzo nodded once, stiffly.

“The omnium was destroyed when he was _four years old_. What chance did he have of _ever_ becoming anything other than what he did?”

Hanzo was silent for a long moment. “Four?” He said carefully, and Satya pushed her hair back with fingers that shook from anger.

“Four.”

He was quiet for another long moment. “It doesn’t change anything. I’m sorry for it, of course; no child deserves that. But it doesn’t change the fact that he and his friend are both psychotic-”

“If they were _truly_ bad, why would they be here?” Satya snapped. “You’d think, to hear you talk, that they’d be off robbing banks right now, or with Talon, rather than _choosing_ to join Overwatch.”

“How do you know they _aren’t?”_ Hanzo said viciously. “They could be reporting our every move. It would explain how Talon keeps appearing when there’s no possible way they’d know where we are.”

Satya regarded him for a long moment. “You’ve proved your point.” She said icily. “Please leave.”

Hanzo’s eyes opened wide for a moment. “You’re going to choose _him?_ Even knowing he’s an utter lunatic and most likely a spy-”

“He wouldn’t.” Satya said with complete certainty. “You don’t know him, Hanzo. He’s a criminal, yes, because his situation forced him into it, but he _wants_ to be legitimate. He loves the thought of it. He’s tried before, but it hasn’t worked out until now. If you spoke to him you’d know that he’s so _excited_ to be with Overwatch…” She trailed off at Hanzo’s sceptical expression. “You don’t believe me.”

“Of course not.” He said roughly. “He’s a _wanted criminal,_ Satya. Of course he wants to get on the good side of the law; it’s only to save his skin.”

Satya breathed strongly through her nose for a moment. “I can see we aren’t going to agree on this.” She said angrily. “I think you should go.”

 Hanzo regarded her coldly for a moment. “Fine.” He said brusquely, and then he was on his feet and stalking away from her, and Satya was left to her blueprints with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. He had distracted her from her work; unable to concentrate, she packed up her supplies and headed back to the workshop, the unsettling idea of Jamison being a double agent foremost in her mind.

To her surprise, Winston, Brigitte and Torbjörn had left, and instead Jamison was sprawled below his workbench, chatting animatedly to Roadhog as he painted some mines, bright orange splotched uncaringly across the floor.

“Hello.” Satya called at the sight of them. “Where did everyone go?”

G’day!” Jamison lurched upright to beam at her. “Uh, they went-” He paused and looked towards Roadhog. “Where _did_ they go?”

“Winston got a call.” Roadhog rumbled, looking up briefly from his book. “UN.”

“I see.” Satya reasoned that if it were truly important, Winston would call a meeting. She made her way to her workbench and, after casting a glance at Jamison, headed to the storeroom. For once, he took the hint, or maybe he thought of it by himself, but at any rate he appeared in the doorway a scant moment later, looking excited.

“Hey.” He said, making his way into the room and pausing to fiddle with the items on a shelf, while Satya leaned against one of the low storage benches and frowned, upset.

“Hello.” She said quietly, looking at him very intently. He couldn’t be a double agent… could he?

As she watched, Jamison’s pleased expression faded and his lips turned down.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He asked, moving towards her, and Satya looked down, doubt and denial swirling within her. “Y’look upset.”

“Hanzo and I had a fight.” She said quietly, and he made a surprised sound.

“Shit, really? Thought you two were thick as thieves.” He giggled and slung an arm around her waist. “What were y’fightin’ about? Someone pour the tea wrong? Put the spoon in the wrong place? Someone-”

“You.” She said quietly, and looked up to meet his abruptly confused gaze.

 _“Me?”_ Jamison’s brows furrowed and Satya stepped into his chest, hiding her face in his warmth.

“You.” She whispered. “He saw us. When I got back from Hollywood. When you… kissed me.”

Jamison’s arms stiffened around her. “Roight.” He said darkly. “Lemme guess. He doesn’t like it.”

Satya sighed. “He doesn’t approve. He said you don’t deserve me.” She scoffed, to indicate that it was rubbish.

Jamison was quiet. “What else’d he say?” He asked, and the tone of his voice was… strange. A little sour, a little resigned. Satya didn’t like it at all.

“He said you were a double agent, working for Talon.” She said with asperity, hoping to shock him, and it worked; Jamison’s mouth dropped open in genuine outrage.

 _“What?”_ He spluttered for a bit, unable to come up with words, and then a heavy scowl settled over his features. “He thinks I’d work for _Talon?”_ His mouth worked furiously, but no sound came out.

“Mm.” Satya said airily, baiting him. “You _are_ internationally renowned, Jamie, and it isn’t for charity.”

Jamison’s mouth quirked up. “ _Fuck yeah,_ I’m international – but _Talon?_ Stupid cunt – doesn’t he have any brains at all? Idiot bastard, doesn’t he _know_ Talon’s tryin’ t’pull another Omnic Crisis!? As If _any_ Junker’d work for ‘em, the fuckin’ sluts of bastards-”

Satya smiled inwardly; she much preferred outrage to melancholy. “I know.” She nodded along with him. “And, he said Roadhog was likely in it, too.”

Jamison swelled in indignation. _“Roadie?”_ He blustered furiously. “Roadie’d be even less likely than me, least he knows what it was like before, he had more t’lose, _Christ_ -” Jamison’s eyes narrowed briefly. “What’d y’tell him?”

“I told him-” Satya answered, cuddling a little closer in response. “-that he is a fool, and wrong, and I’m at perfect liberty to do what I want, without needing _his_ approval.”

Jamison beamed at her. “That’s m’girl.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “What a wanker, can’t believe he actually had the balls t’say that t’ya-”

“He was just trying to look out for me.” Satya admitted with a frown. “He just doesn’t know you like I do. He only sees the mad bomber.”

“Heh, well, I am that, ain’t I?”

“Yes, but you’re more than that.” Satya said firmly, settling her nose comfortably into the hollow of his throat. With his arms around her and his surprisingly broad, muscled shoulders beneath her fingertips, she felt very secure. “You want to be legitimate. You wouldn’t have joined the recall if you hadn’t.”

“Too roight.” Jamison agreed, his fingers gently sifting through her hair. “I get t’blow shit up an’ get paid for it _an’_ it’s legit here. I’m about that life, love.”

A worrying thought occurred to her, and Satya looked up, concern creasing her brow. “I hope I haven’t upset you by telling you…”

“Nah.” Jamison said cheerfully. “‘Course, he’s gonna get decked in the chops at m’earliest convenience-”

“Jamie!”

He giggled. “I ain’t worried, love. Not really.” He lowered his voice, gazing flicking away from hers. “I know… there ain’t many that’d disagree with him, so-”

 _“I_ disagree with him.” Satya said furiously. “And that’s the only thing that matters, isn’t it?”

Jamison’s gaze met hers, something close to wonder lurking in those molten depths. “Yeah.” He said, sounding almost surprised. “‘Course.”

Satya didn’t like this sort of… insecurity of his that sometimes surfaced. The concept of him not _deserving_ her was something she found ridiculous and insulting; she had her flaws, just like everyone else. She was no goddess. Satya was put on pedestals all the time for her work, and hated the thought of something like that in a relationship, and so she was determined to have him see them as equals. Maybe she wouldn’t achieve that right now, but she would, eventually.

“Jamison.” Satya murmured his name and pressed close, twining her fingers into his hair and burying her face in his throat. Jamison responded in kind; he burrowed into her hair and locked his arms around her waist, holding her tightly. They stayed like that for a few long moments, and when they pulled back, Satya bit down on her lower lip to supress her smile; Jamison’s own grin was giddy and delighted, and very pleasantly surprised. She liked it immensely when he looked like that; flushed pink and beneath his freckles and happy. It made him look sweet enough to eat.

“Oi, don’t do that.”

Jamison mock-frowned at her, and Satya smiled up at him, her teeth still in her lower lip. This was clearly her chance to lead the conversation away from topics such as Hanzo, and she jumped at it. “Don’t do what?”

“That.” Jamison lifted his hand, gaze intense, and his thumb brushed over her lips, causing her cheeks to flush with heat.

“Why not?” She breathed.

Jamison leaned in to murmur his words against her mouth. “Don’t think y’know how sexy it is when y’do that with y’teeth. Drives me nuts.”

Satya smiled against his lips and leaned closer to kiss him properly, lingering until his breathing was heavy and he’d gathered her to him again, his hips flush with hers. She broke the kiss and touched his face gently.

“And that?” She murmured with an arch of her brow, and Jamison snickered before leaning in to press a brief kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Fuckin’ tease.” His hands rumpled her blouse, tugging it from her skirt and he wasted no time in sliding his fingers over her bare waist. “Dunno how y’keep doin’ this t’me.” He sounded frustrated enough that it made her laugh, and Satya pulled away to head across the room, giving him a coy look over her shoulder.

“Do what?” She inquired archly, and Jamison chuckled and came after her.

“ _Y’know_ what.” He said darkly, pinning her neatly against a shelf. “Tease.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Satya purred, barely repressing a smile as she slid her arms around his neck, and Jamison made a noise of disbelief.

“Sure.” He sounded amused as he bent to nuzzle at her neck, and Satya shivered as sharp teeth nipped at the shell of her ear. “Hey.” His voice was deep and delicious, and she had to concentrate to reply.

“Mm?”

“Y’know how we went t’town the other day…”

“Yes?”

“Would ya, ah, like t’go somewhere else?”

“I would.” Satya breathed, a thrill of excitement spiralling through her. _This_ was a much more pleasant topic than their previous one. “To town again?”

“Nah. Got somewhere way better in mind.”

That confused her sufficiently to make her pull back, brow furrowed. “What? Where?”

“Come t’the roof tonight.” Jamison hesitated for a moment. “Doesn’t have t’be tonight if you’re busy-”

“I am busy.” Satya said with a frown; she’d already made plans with Ana for tonight. “Unfortunately. Tomorrow night, perhaps?”

“That works.” Jamison said, disappointed expression clearing. “Gives me more time t’prepare.”

“Prepare what?” Satya asked, intrigued, and got only a mischievous smile in return. She liked the thought of going on another date; time had flown while working on her new prosthetic, and it had already been over a week since their first date. She was, however, curious to know what sort of date could be achieved on the roof, but when she asked, she was informed it would be a surprise.

“Are all our dates going to be like this?” Satya inquired. “You being secretive about them, I mean.”

Jamison snickered. “Nah. Just thought of a nice surprise, is all. You’ll like it, promise.”

“I’m sure I will.” Satya traced a shape on his chest with her finger, before looking up at him through her lowered lashes. “We had better go, I think. I’m sure Roadhog is getting ready to throw cold water over us.”

Jamison giggled madly. “Big lug, I’d like t’see him try.”

Satya tapped his chin playfully, then stepped back. “Come along, Jamie.” She added an extra swing to her hips as she picked up the supplies she’d originally come to collect, and Jamison lingered, his gaze fixed in a decidedly lower direction as she walked past him, and then they were back inside the workshop and under Roadhog’s rather knowing gaze.

Satya sank her teeth into her lip to stop herself from smiling, and accidentally caught Jamison’s eye; his gaze dipped to her mouth and then he very deliberately narrowed his eyes, and Satya had to turn away to prevent a laugh. She sat down at her desk and at the sight of her blueprints, she soon became sucked back into designing for the new contract Sanjay had given her, with no regard for the glances Jamison kept sneaking at her.

When night fell Satya ate in the dining area as usual, sitting across from Lúcio as he animatedly inquired after the progress of her arm, and offered up ideas and concepts on how they could improve it. It was in no way unpleasant, until Angela, who’d been seated on her right and had also been heavily involved in the conversation, finished her meal and got up to leave, citing some forms she had to go through to submit to the UN; their medical histories were required, apparently, so the UN could judge for themselves as to the suitability of each member of the recall. They were still dancing around whether or not they ought to confirm the presence of certain illegal persons, and Winston hadn’t yet decided if it was smart or not. So, as far as official Overwatch recall records went, the Junkers, Ana, Morrison, Jesse, the Shimada brothers and Satya, didn’t exist. Satya was included on the list because Vishkar didn’t want the UN knowing they were aiding a yet illegal operation, and the rest were all wanted, either in various countries or internationally. Jamison seemed illogically proud of fitting into the latter.

Therefore, dinner had been nice, up until Angela left and Hanzo meandered over and sat down in her place. Satya had thought he wouldn’t hold a grudge, despite their fight, but she found that he still had a bone to pick with her when he listened innocently enough for a while, then mentioned her new contract to the entire table, causing Lúcio to nearly choke on his drink.

 _“What!?”_ He spluttered, gazing at her in horror. “Satya, I thought we agreed that you were leaving Vishkar! Why didn’t you tell us what Sanjay said?”

Satya flashed Hanzo an irritated glance before turning to Lúcio, her tone defensive. “What did you want me to do?” She snapped, more brusque than she’d intended to be. “I couldn’t refuse, or he’d get curious and ask questions. It’s only a simple contract; all I have to do is design a building. It’s to go in Kalkota – it isn’t anything serious.”

“Which takes up time you should be spending on your arm.” Hana mused from her place beside Lúcio. “I dunno, Satya. Maybe you should ignore it.”

“We don’t know how long it’ll take to finish my arm.” Satya pointed out. “If I reach the deadline of this project before my arm is complete and I have no plans to show for it, Sanjay will be furious. Our superiors will be notified and I’d be reprimanded. I might even be recalled to India.”

She eyed everyone around the table, daring them to contradict her. Lúcio looked like he’d bitten into a lemon, but finally acquiesced.

“I guess so.” He said with a frown. “Be careful, though, Satya. Don’t let them get you.”

Satya arched a brow. “I won’t.” She chose not to mention how low an opinion of her willpower he seemed to have, but her relapse this afternoon flashed in front of her eyes and so she kept silent.

After dinner, she met with Ana in the rec room, as planned. They sat together at one of the low tables in a quiet corner, while Brigitte thrashed Pharah at chess and Genji crowed over having beat Hana at _Ultimate_ _Mortal Kombat 3._

Satya had brought her nail polish, as per usual, and she did Ana’s nails as they chatted. This had become a weekly routine, and Ana would no doubt do Satya’s nails, but Satya trusted no one but herself to do a satisfactory job, and so it was Ana’s nails who became a weekly masterpiece. She was painting them a glossy black this week, her tongue between her teeth and furrow between her brows as she concentrated while Ana told stories of Overwatch in its heyday.

All too soon, Pharah and Brigitte realised the topic at hand and came to sit on the floor at Ana’s feet, listening curiously while Satya carefully painted.

“…And that’s how chewing gum got banned from the conference rooms.” Ana concluded gleefully. “It might seem a little strange to you, the ones that weren’t with Overwatch before, I mean-” Ana said, addressing Lúcio, Hana and the others who had migrated over to hear her story. “-but that’s how it was. It was much more military, the UN had Jack running things with an iron fist…” Ana paused for a moment, clearly thinking. “In some ways, I miss it.” She murmured, more to herself then to her audience. “In other ways, I don’t.” Her voice grew louder with conviction, and she arched a brow at her daughter. “We were growing very corrupt, but so convinced we were in the right that we were blind to it.”

“You’re very right, Ana.” Angela chimed in from where she’d approached to hear the end of the story. “That corruptness was why I was so hesitant to respond to the recall.”

“Mm, I suppose the fact that it was Winston, not the UN, that swayed you?” Ana said knowledgably. “It did for me. I’d more or less decided to come back from the dead, but like hell would I have come back to Overwatch if nothing had changed.”

“It did.” Angela agreed. “Winston’s far less corrupt, unless there’s a significant amount of peanut butter involved.”

Both women chuckled, and then Ana looked a bit severe. “Now, I want you all to promise me you won’t idolise this organisation. It’s very easy to look at people like Reinhardt and see the glory in it – that man has never seen a day’s dishonour in his life – but too much glory covers the rot. Every organisation has its flaws – we weren’t doing wrong, but we weren’t doing much right, either. Just… keep it in mind.”

“We will.” Said Hana, eyes wide as she digested Ana’s words, and Satya completed the last coat of varnish in silence, the click of the bottle as she recapped it prompting Ana to examine her nails with a pleased expression.

“They’re lovely, Satya, as usual. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Satya pushed her hair behind her ear and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, Ana, I should look over my blueprints before bed…”

“Ah. Well, goodnight then.”

A chorus of goodbyes echoed from the other occupants of the room as Satya departed, carrying her box of nail polish and thinking. She’d had an interesting day – first the breakthrough on her new prosthesis, then Sanjay’s bombshell, then the disastrous conversation with Hanzo… Satya reached her room and put away her nail polish, then headed into her bathroom for her nightly routine. Showered, cleansed, and thoroughly moisturised, Satya curled up in bed and pulled out her phone. Brain weary from the work she’d done today, she still felt it a bit early to go to sleep, so she scrolled through her contacts until she found Jamison’s number, and dialled.

He picked up on the second ring; Satya smiled at the enthusiasm in his tone when he greeted her, and threaded her fingers absently into her hair as she settled back into her pillows.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She asked, and she could practically hear Jamison shaking his head.

“Nah, I’m just on m’way t’me room. Gimme a moment, just gotta get through this door-” Jamison continued to babble absently as he moved through the corridor, and Satya heard the soft beeps that indicated he was unlocking a door, and hiss of it sliding shut behind him. “That’s better.” He said finally, happily. “Can talk proper now. Er, what’s up? Any particular reason y’givin’ me a ring?”

Satya closed her eyes and leaned back against her pillows. “I’ve had a long, stressful day.” She admitted. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?” Surprise turned to pleasure in his voice. “What about?”

“Anything. How was your day?”

“Pretty good. Got heaps of work done – pulled the guts outta some RIPtires an’ fucked about – got bailed up in the storage room by some smokin’ hot sheila, too.”

Satya laughed at the description. “Smoking? I think you’re confusing things with your bombs.”

Jamison groaned in relief. “ _Ah_ – that’s better. Nah, if you’re questionin’ m’eyesight, it’s flawless. Got eyes like a bloody hawk, I do.”

“What’s better?” Satya asked, entertained by the relieved note to his voice.

“Got m’leg off.” He explained. “Gets sore, y’know. When I wear it for a while.”

“Understandable.”

“Hey, uh, didja sort shit out with Hanzo?”

Satya’s lips compressed into a tight line. “No.” She answered rather stiffly. “The issue is all his. When he wants to apologise, he can.”

Jamison was silent for a moment. “Don’t mind seein’ Robin Hood all fucked off-” He mused. “-but if y’upset about it-”

“I’m not upset, I’m angry.” Satya said coldly. “There’s a difference.”

“Sure is.” He hummed, and then smothered a yawn, which distracted her.

“You sound like you need to go to bed.”

“Reckon.” Jamison agreed. “Dead fuckin’ tired.”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Dunno.” She could all but hear him scratching at his chin. “Yesterday, some time.”

“Didn’t you sleep last night?”

“Nah, stayed in the workshop. Got on a roll, y’know? Nice little breakthrough. Got some real beauties built. Gorgeous little things, all ready t’test.” He sounded very proud, and it made her smile.

“Nice or not, you need sleep.”

“‘S only early.” Jamison tried arguing, but she could hear the grin in his voice.

“It’s never too early to sleep.” Satya fluffed her weighted blanket absently, shifting the phone to her other ear. “I’m in bed.”

“Yeah? What are y’wearin’?”

The question, put forth with such boldness, left her rather taken aback and Satya didn’t answer for a long moment.

“My pyjamas.” She said at last, and Jamison snickered.

“What sort?” He asked, and the corners of her mouth curled up.

“Shorts and a singlet. Very ordinary, I’m afraid.”

“What, no lace an’ silk an’ sexy shit? That’s borin’.” He asked disgustedly, and Satya laughed.

“I save those for special occasions.”

There was a very long pause.

“Special occasions?” Jamison croaked at last. “What kind of special occasions?”

“When I have company.” She told him, delighted by the hitch in his breath. She wished he were in front of her so she could see his face.

“You’re bein’ a tease again, Sat.” Jamison was, she was gratified to hear, a little breathless, and she grinned.

“Well, of course I am. You don’t think I’d let you off easy, after you ask me what I’m wearing?”

“ _Fuckin’_ -” Jamison trailed into silence. “What sort of special occasions?” He asked again. “They, uh, got any invites goin’?”

“They might.” Satya replied, a thrill of heat sparking within her.

“Oh.” He breathed. “How d’ya reckon a bloke might go about gettin’ one, d’ya think?”

“He couldn’t be just anyone.” Satya purred. “I won’t be inviting just anyone to my room.”

“Glad of that.” Jamison’s voice was deep and husky, and it sent thrills through her. “You, uh, got anythin’ more definite t’work with?”

“Maybe.” Satya rubbed the hem of her top between her fingers, revealing several inches of her midriff. “He’d need to be… tall.”

“Can think of several blokes who fit the bill. Anythin’ else?”

“The usual, I suppose. Tall, blond and handsome.” She teased, enjoying his nonplussed laugh.

“Hah, er, dunno ‘bout that last one, love.”

“Don’t you think I’m a good judge?” Satya asked, both aroused and entertained. She wanted badly to tell him that, but wasn’t sure if she should.

“Mmm…” His hesitance answered _that_ question, and Satya decided to dispense with the teasing.

“Tell me what you plan to do tomorrow night.” She asked instead. “I still don’t see what you can possibly achieve on the roof.”

This time, his laugh was delighted. “You’ll find out, Sat, you’ll find out.”

“Hmph. Now who’s the tease?”

Jamison cackled and Satya smiled against the phone. With a sudden urge to see his face, but knowing inviting him to her room was potentially dangerous, she asked him if he was okay with her video-calling him. He was, and soon Satya had her video-screen floating above her face as she reclined on her pillows, her metal hand splayed casually above her head and her other laid casually on her chest, playing with a loose lock of hair.

Jamison had his phone braced against his pillow, she could tell, and he was lying on his side with his head propped up on his elbow. He had soot smeared across his cheek and paint on his fingers, and when Satya informed him of this he looked at his hand like he truly hadn’t noticed.

“Oh, yeah.” Jamison’s tone was neutral, like noticing a fly, and she shook her head slightly at this ridiculousness.

“You need a shower.”

“Mm, guess so.” He agreed but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it, and narrowed her eyes slightly but let it go.

“How are you?” Satya asked instead, searching his face through the little screen.

“Fine.” Jamison frowned slightly. “Uh, that was a general ‘how are ya’, yeah?”

“Mostly.” Satya carefully scrutinised him. “It hasn’t been _that_ long since you left the medibay.”

“Oh.” Jamison looked like he’d just barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “Roight. Well, no worries, love. I feel great, look great, am great-” Satya laughed, and he snickered. “Well, I can make y’laugh, so all’s good, huh?”

“I suppose.” Satya smiled at him. “Just so long as you take care of yourself, mm? Have you been approved for active service yet?”

“Nah, not quite. Angel Wings reckons I got some more physical therapy t’do or some shit.” Jamison screwed up his face. “Ain’t really wanna, but I guess I gotta. Maybe I’ll skip.”

“I hope you won’t.” Satya frowned, then arched her brow suggestively. “Perhaps if you behave yourself and listen to Angela, you’ll be invited to one of my ‘special occasions’.”

Satya had the utter satisfaction of watching Jamison’s eyes pop and his jaw drop on the little screen, and kept her little smile in place.

“What-” He spluttered. “Are – are y’serious?”

“I am.” Satya grinned at him. “You think I would issue invitations without meaning it?”

Jamison’s eyes darkened. “No.” He said slowly. “I ‘spose not.”

Heat curled through her form and Satya bit her tongue to quell the suggestion that he come to her room, here, tonight, right this second, and sweep her off her feet. The intensity of her emotions made her feel somewhat shaky and nervous, and Satya averted her gaze.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t.” She breathed, and there was silence for several long seconds, before Jamison yawned, scrubbing his hand roughly over his face. Satya studied him carefully for a moment, noting the tired circles beneath his eyes.

“You need sleep. I’m sorry, I’m probably keeping you awake.”

“Nah, y’ain’t.” Jamison offered her a sleepy grin. “Won’t get t’sleep now, anyway. Too early.”

“Drink some tea.” Satya smiled at him in return. “Hot and sweet, that’s the best way.”

Hot an’ sweet, sure.” Jamison agreed, but from the way his eyes swept over the little of her body he could see on camera, she got the feeling he wasn’t talking about tea. “That’s what y’do, ay? Just… drink tea?” There was a doubtful note to his voice, and Satya nodded.

“Yes, if I’m having trouble sleeping I like to do a little yoga, to tire myself out. Then I’ll make myself cosy in bed with some tea, and by the time I’ve finished my cup I’m usually ready to sleep.”

“Huh.” Jamison dragged a hand over his jaw, highlighting a hint of stubble. “Have t’try it some time. Ain’t so sure about the yoga, but.”

“No? You don’t like yoga?”

“Can’t say I’ve tried it.” He answered comfortably, and impulse rushed through her.

“I’ll have to show you some time.”

“Yeah?” His eyes lit up. “Y’gonna wear them yoga pants? The real snug ones? ‘Cause, I gotta tell ya, there’s nuthin’ hotter than seein’ a nice tight arse all wrapped up in some-”

“Jamison!” Satya interrupted what was clearly going to be quite a long-winded explanation of why he enjoyed yoga pants, and then the urge to tease bit her. “…I don't know what sort of clothes you think I'd wear; yoga pants are more or less the standard.”

 _“Fuck yeah_.” He sounded immensely pleased with himself, and gave her a gold-tinged smile before he yawned again.

“Okay, you need sleep.” Satya said authoritatively. “I’ll say goodnight. Try the tea, Jamie. It’ll help.”

“Mm, if y’say so.” He said, looking a little put out about her hanging up.

“Goodnight, Jamie.” Satya studied his face fondly for a moment. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“G’night, Satya. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

He gave her a grin and Satya wished for a moment she could touch him. Well, she’d have that luxury in the morning. With that pleasant thought bolstering her, she bid Jamison goodnight, and closed the video chat. As his face disappeared from view, she lay in bed for a long moment, a soft smile on her face. It occurred to her, as she adjusted her position beneath the covers, that she was in considerably deeper with him than she’d ever intended to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been a while since I last updated! uni is very stressful and intense right now so I think updates are gonna be pretty sparse for a while, but I hope I can get into some sort of rhythm again soon! 
> 
> I just feel like Hanzo would be extremely disapproving of Jamison. he counts Satya as a close friend and doesn't even remotely think that Jamie is good enough for her


End file.
